CHARLIE  MAN'S 
CRUISE 


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CHARLIE  CODMAN'S 
CRUISE 


OR 


A  YOUNG  SAILOR'S  PLUCK. 


By 
HORATIO   ALGER,  Jr. 

Author  of  "Adrift  in   New   York,"    "Hector's   Inheritance/ 

"The  Erie  Train  Boy,"  and  over  fifty  more  of  the 

best  stories  for  boys  ever  written. 


CHICAGO 
M.  A.   DONOHUE   &   CO. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

T.     Charlie  and  the  Miser 5 

II.     A  Miser's  Household 13 

III.  The  Unwelcome  Visitor 20 

IV.  A  Startling  Question 27 

V.     The  Compact  with  Eandall 34 

VI.     Charlie  at  Home 43 

VII.     Captain  Brace 49 

/III.     The  Elue  Chest 55 

IX.     On  Board 61 

X.     Charlie  in  a  Tight  Place 67 

XL     Off  to  Sea 74 

XII.     Landlord  and   Tenant 80 

XIII.     Clouds  and  Sunshine 89 

XLV.     Bertha   Bowman 95 

XV     Mrs.  Codman  's  Good  Fortune 101 

XVI.     Charlie  Codman  !s  Sea  Life 107 

XVII.      The   Eival   Champions 113 

XVIII.     Antonio's    Eesolve 119 

•XIX.      Charlie's  Land  Yarn 125 

XX.     Bill  Sturdy 's  Story 131 

XXL     The  Pirate  Ship 137 

XXII.     How  to  Escape  from  a  Pirate 143 

£XIII.     Antonio's    Plot 149 


'1:74 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER. 

XXIV.     Charlie  Gets  into  Trouble 155 

XXV.      The  Real  Culprit  Discovered 160 

XXVI.     A  Storm  Brewing 166 

XXVII.     The   Lash 172 

XXVIII.      Two    Conferences 179 

XXIX.     Danger  Threatens  Bill  Sturdy 185 

XXX.     The  Pass  of  Death 191 

XXXI.     Charlie's  Escape 196 

XXXII.      First   Lessons 203 

XXXIII.  A  Letter  from  Charlie 208 

XXXIV.  The  Return  of  the  "Betsy" 215 

XXXV.     Charlie  Turns  up  Unexpectedly 220 

XXXVI.     Charlie  Comes  into  His  Fortune 227 

XXXVII.     Reunited  at  Last 235 

KXXVIII.     Reaching  Port 240 


CHAELEY  CODMAFS  CKUISE, 


CHAPTER  I. 

CHARLIE  AND  THE  MISER. 

Charlie  Codman  turned  out  of  Washington  into  Bed- 
ford Street  just  as  the  clock  in  the  Old  South  steeple 
struck  two.  He  was  about  fourteen,  a  handsome,  well- 
made  boy,  with  a  bright  eye  and  a  manly  expression. 
But  he  was  poor.  That  was  evident  enough  from  his 
clothes,  which,  though  neat  and  free  from  dust,  were 
patched  in  several  places.  He  had  a  small  roll  of  daily 
papers  under  his  arm,  the  remains  of  his  stock  in  trade, 
which  he  had  been  unable  wholly  to  dispose  of. 

Some  of  my  readers  may  know  that  the  Latin  School 
and  English  High  School  are  kept  in  the  same  building. 
At  two  o'clock  both  are  dismissed.  Charlie  had  scarcely 
passed  the  school-house,  when  a  crowd  of  boys  issued  from 
the  school-yard,  and  he  heard  his  name  called  from  behind. 
Looking  back,  he  recognized  a  boy  somewhat  smaller  than 
himself,  with  whom  he  had  formed  an  acquaintance  some 
time  before. 

5 


6  Charlie  and  the  Miser. 

"Where  are  you  bound,  Charlie?"  asked  Edwin  Banks. 

"I'm  going  home  now." 

"What  luck  have  you  had  this  morning?" 

"Not  much,  I've  got  four  papers  left  over,  and  that  will 
take  away  about  all  my  profits." 

"What  a  pity  you  are  poor,  Charlie.  I  wish  you  could 
come  to  school  with  us." 

"So  do  I,  Eddie.  I'd  give  g  good  deal  to  get  an  educa- 
tion, but  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  help  mother." 

"Why  won't  you  come  some  time,  and  see  us,  Charlie? 
Clara  and  myself  would  be  very  glad  to  see  you  at  any 
time." 

"I  should  like  to  go,"  said  Charlie,  "but  I  don't  look 
fit." 

"Oh,  never  mind  about  your  clothes.  I  like  you  just 
as  well  as  if  you  were  dressed  in  style." 

"Perhaps  I'll  come  some  time,"  said  Charlie.  "I'd  invite 
you  to  come  and  see  me,  but  we  live  in  a  poor  place." 

"Just  as  if  I  should  care  for  that.  I  will  come  whenever 
I  get  an  invitation. 

Then  come  next  Saturday  afternoon.  I  will  be  waiting 
for  you  as  you  come  out  of  school." 

Charlie  little  thought  where  he  would  be  when  Saturday 
came. 

Shortly  after  that  the  boys  separated,  and  Charlie's 
attention  was  arrested  by  the  sight  of  an  old  man  with  a 
Gambling    ■'•nit,    who   was    bending    over    and   anxiously 


Charlie  and  the  Miser.  U 

searching  for  something  on  the  sidewalk.  Charlie  recog- 
niged  him  at  once  as  "old  Manson,  the  miser/'  for  this  was 
the  name  hy  which  he  generally  went. 

Old  Peter  Manson  was  not  more  than  fifty-five,  but  he 
looked  from  fifteen  to  twenty  years  older.  If  his  body  had 
been  properly  cared  for,  it  would  have  been  different;  but, 
one  by  one,  its  functions  had  been  blunted  and  destroyed, 
and  it  had  become  old  and  out  of  repair.  Peter's  face  was 
plowed  with  wrinkles.  His  cheeks  were  thin,  and  the  skin 
was  yellow  and  hung  in  folds.  His  beard  appeared  to  have 
received  little  or  no  attention  for  a  week,  at  least,  and  was 
now  stiff  and  bristling. 

The  miser's  dress  was  not  very  well  fitted  to  his  form. 
It  was  in  the  fashion  of  twenty  years  before.  He  wore 
grayish  trousers,  patched  in  divers  places  with  dark  elotk 
by  an  unskilful  hand;  a  vest  from  which  the  buttons  had 
long  since  departed,  and  which  wa3  looped  together  by- 
pieces  of  string,  but  not  closely  enough  to  conceal  a  dirty 
and  tattered  shirt  beneath;  a  coat  in  the  last  stages  of 
shabbiness ;  while  over  all  hung  a  faded  blue  cloak,  which 
Peter  wore  in  all  weathers.  In  the  sultriest  days  of  August 
he  might  have  been  seen  trudging  along  in  this  old  mantle, 
which  did  him  the  good  service  of  hiding  a  multitude  of 
holes  and  patches,  while  in  January  he  went  no  warmer 
clad  There  were  some  who  wondered  how  he  could  stand 
tlie  bitter  cold  of  winter  with  no  more  adequate  covering, 
tut  if  Peter's  body  was  as  tough  as  his  conscience,  tltere 
fras  no  fear  of  his  suffering. 


6  Charlie  and  the  Miser. 

Charlie  paused  a  moment  to  see  what  it  was  that  the 
old  man  was  hunting  for. 

"Have  you  lost  anything?"  he  asked. 

"Yes/'  said  Peter,  in  quavering  accents.  "See  if  you 
can  find  it,  that's  a  good  boy.  Your  eyes  are  better  than 
mine." 

"What  is  it?" 

"It  is  some  money,  and  I — I'm  so  poor,  I  can't  afford  to 
lose  it." 

"How  much  was  it?" 

"It  wasn't  much,  but  I'm  so  poor  I  need  it." 

Charlie  espied  a  cent,  lying  partially  concealed  by  mud, 
just  beside  the  curb-stone.     He  picked  it  up. 

"This  isn't  what  you  lost,  is  it  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Peter,  seizing  it  eagerly.  "You're  a  good 
boy  to  find  it.     A  good  boy !" 

"Well,"  thought  Charlie,  wondering,  as  the  old  man 
hobbled  off  with  his  recovered  treasure,  "I'd  rather  be  poor 
than  care  so  much  for  money  as  that.  People  say  old 
Peter's  worth  his  thousands.     I  wonder  whether  it  is  so." 

Charlie  little  dreamed  how  much  old  Peter  was  likely 
to  influence  his  destiny,  and  how,  at  his  instigation,  before 
a  week  had  passed  over  his  head,  he  would  find  himself  in 
a  very  disagreeable  situation. 

With  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground  Peter  shuffled  along, 
making  more  rapid  progress  than  could  have  been  ex- 
pected. Occasionally  he  would  stoop  down  and  pick  up 
any  little  stray  object  which  arrested  his  attention,  even 


Charlie  and  the  Miser.  9 

to  ..  ^rooiced  pin,  which  he  thrust  into  his  cloak,  x~ uttering 
as  he  did  so: 

"Save  my  buying  any.  I  haven't  had  to  buy  any  pins 
for  more'n  ten  years,  and  I  don't  mean  to  buy  any  more 
while  I  live.  Ha  !  ha  !  Folks  are  so  extravagant !  They 
buy  things  they  don't  need,  or  that  they  might  pick  up,  if 
they'd  only  take  the  trouble  to  keep  their  eyes  open. 
'Tisn't  so  with  old  Peter.  He's  too  cunning  for  that. 
There  goes  a  young  fellow  dressed  up  in  the  fashion. 
What  he's  got  on  must  have  cost  nigh  on  to  a  hundred 
dollars. 

"What  dreadful  extravagance  !  Ha  !  ha !  It  hasn't  cost 
old  Peter  twenty  dollars  for  the  last  ten  years.  If  he  had 
spent  money  as  some  do,  he  might  have  been  in  the  poor- 
house  by  this  time.  Ugh !  ugh !  it  costs  a  dreadful  sum  to 
live.  If  we  could  only  come  into  the  world  with  natural 
clothes,  like  cats,  what  a  deal  better  it  would  be.  But  it 
costs  the  most  for  food.  Oh,  dear !  what  a  dreadful  appe- 
tite I've  got,  and  I  must  eat.  All  the  money  spent  for 
victuals  seems  thrown  away.  I've  a  good  mind,  sometimes, 
to  go  to  the  poor-house,  where  it  wouldn't  cost  me  anything. 
What  a  blessing  it  would  be  to  eat,  if  you  could  only 
get  food  for  nothing." 

It  is  very  clear  that  Peter  would  have  been  far  better 
off,  as  far  as  the  comforts  of  life  are  concerned,  in  the  city 
almshouse ;  but  there  were  some  little  obstacles  in  the  way 
of  his  entering.  For  instance,  it  would  scarcely  have  been 
allowed    a    public    pensioner    to    go    round    Quarterly    to 


10  Charlie  and  the  Miser. 

collect  his  rents — a  thing  which  Peter  would  hardly  have 
relinquished. 

^Reflections  upon  the  cost  of  living  brought  to  Peter's 
recollection  that  he  had  nothing  home  for  supper.  He 
accordingly  stepped  into  a  baker's  shop  close  at  hand. 

"Have  you  got  any  bread  cheap?"  he  inquired  o£  the 
baker. 

"We  intend  to  sell  at  moderate  prices." 

"What  do  you  ask  for  those  loaves?*'  said  the  old  man, 
looking  wistfully  at  some  fresh  loaves  piled  upon  the 
counter,  which  had  been  but  a  short  time  out  of  the  oven. 

"Five  cents  a  piece,"  said  the  baker.  "I'll  warrant  you 
will  find  them  good.     They  are  made  of  the  best  of  flour/' 

"Isn't  five  cents  rather  dear?"  queried  Peter,  his  natural 
appetite  struggling  with  his  avarice. 

"Dear !"  retorted  the  baker,  opening  his  eyes  in  aston- 
ishment; "why,  my  good  sir.  at  what  price  do  you  expeot 
to  buy  bread?" 

"I've  no  doubt  they're  very  good,"  said  Peter  hastily; 
"but  have  you  any  stale  loaves?  I  guess  they'll  be  better 
for  me." 

"Yes,"  said  the  baker,  "I  believe  I  have,  but  they're  aofe 
as  good  as  the  fresh  bread." 

"How  do  you  sell  your  stale  loaves?"  inquired  Peter, 
fumbling  in  his  pocket  for  some  change. 

"I  sell  them  for  about  half-price — three  cents  a  piece* 

"You  mftv  ifive,  me  one?  then;  I  guess  it'll  be  better  C<* 


Charlie  and  the  Miser.  11 

Even  Peter  was  a  little  ashamed  to  acknowledge  that  it 
was  the  price  alone  which  influenced  his  choice. 

The  baker  observed  that,  notwithstanding  his  decision, 
he  continued  to  look  wistfully  toward  the  fresh  bread. 
Never  having  seen  old  Peter  before,  he  was  unacquainted 
■with  his  character,  and,  judging  from  his  dilapidated  ap- 
pearance that  he  might  be  prevented,  by  actual  poverty, 
from  buying  the  fresh  bread,  exclaimed  with  a  sudden 
impulse:  "You  seem  to  be  poor.  If  you  only  want  one 
loaf  I  will  for  this  once  give  you  a  fresh  loaf  for  three 
cents — the  same  price  I  ask  for  the  stale  bread." 

-Will  you  ?" 

Old  Peter's  eyes  sparkled  with  eagerness  as  he  said  this. 

"Poor  man !"  thought  the  baker,  with  mistaken  com- 
passion; "he  must  indeed  be  needy,  to  be  so  pleased." 

"Yes,"  he  continued,  "you  shall  have  a  loaf  this  once 
ier  three  cents.     Shall  I  put  it  in  a  paper  for  you  ?" 

Peter  nodded. 

Meanwhile  he  was  busy  fumbling  in  his  pockets  for  the 
coins  requisite  to  purchase  the  loaf.  He  drew  out  three 
'battered  cents,  and  deposited  them  with  reluctant  hand 
en  the  counter.  He  gazed  on  them  wistfully  while  the 
l&aker  carelessly  swept  them  with  his  hand  into  the  till 
leehind  the  counter;  and  then,  with  a  sigh  of  resignation 
at  parting  with  the  coins,  seized  the  loaf  and  shambled  out 
into  the  street. 

He  put  the  bundle  under  his  arm,  and  hastened  up  I    s 


Charlie  and  the  Miser. 

Street,  his  mouth  watering  in  anticipation  of  the  feast 
which  awaited  him. 

The  haker  was  congratulating  himself  upon  having  done 
a  charitable  action,  when  Peter  came  back  in  haste,  pale 
with  fright. 

"I — I "  he   stammered,   "must  have  dropped   some 

money.     You  haven't  picked  up  an)^  have  you?" 

"Not  I !"  said  the  baker  carelessly.  "If  you  dropped  it 
here  you  will  find  it  somewhere  on  the  floor.  Stay,  I  will 
assist  you." 

Peter  seemed  rather  disconcerted  than  otherwise  by  this 
offer  of  assistance,  but  could  not  reasonably  interpose  any 
objection. 

After  a  very  brief  search  Peter  and  the  baker  simul- 
taneously discovered  the  missing  coin.  The  former 
pounced  upon  it,  but  not  before  the  latter  had  recognized 
it  as  a  gold  piece. 

"Ho,  ho !"  thought  he,  in  surprise,  "my  charity  is  not  so 
well  bestowed  as  I  thought.  Do  you  have  many  such 
coins?"  he  asked  meaningly. 

"I  ?"  said  Peter  hastily.  "Oh,  no !  I  am  very  poor. 
This  is  all  I  have,  and  I  expect  it  will  be  gone  soon — it 
costs  so  much  to  live!" 

"It'll  never  cost  you  much,"  thought  the  baker,  watching 
the  shabby  figure  of  the  miser  as  he  receded  from  the  shop. 


CHAPTEK  II. 

a  miser's  household. 

Peter  Manson  owned  a  small  house  in  an  obscure  street, 
It  was  a  weather-beaten  tenement  of  wood,  containing 
some  six  or  eight  rooms,  all  of  which,  with  one  excep 
were  given  over  to  dirt,  cobwebs,  gloom,  and  desolation. 
Peter  might  readily  have  let  the  rooms  which  he  did  not 
require  for  his  own  use,  but  so  profound  was  his  distrust 
of  human  nature  that  not  even  the  prospect  of  receiving 
rent  for  the  empty  rooms  could  overcome  his  apprehen- 
sion of  being  robbed  by  neighbors  under  the  same  roof. 
For  Peter  trusted  not  his  money  to  banks  or  railroads,  but 
wanted  to  have  it  directly  under  his  own  eye  or  within  his 
reach.  As  for  investing  his  gold  in  the  luxuries  of  life, 
or  even  in  what  were  generally  considered  as  absolute  neces- 
saries, Peter  was  no  such  fool  as  that.  A  gold  eagle  was 
worth  ten  times  more  to  him  than  its  equivalent  in  food  or. 
clothing. 

With  more  than  his  usual  alacrity,  old  Peter  Manson, 
bearing  under  his  cloak  the  fresh  loaf  which  he  had  just 
procured  from  the  baker  on  such  advantageous  terms, 
hastened  to  his  not  very  inviting  home. 

Drawing  from  Ms  pocket  a  large  and  rusty  door-key,  he 
13 


14  A  Miser's  Household. 

applied  it  to  the  door.  It  turned  in  the  lock  with  a  creak- 
ing sound,  and  the  door  yielding  to  Peter's  push,  he 
entered. 

The  room  which  he  appropriated  to  his  own  use  was  ia 
fc]  »cond  story.  It  was  a  large  room,  of  some  eighteen 
feet  square,  and,  as  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  was  not 
set  off  by  expensive  furniture.  The  articles  which  came 
under  this  denomination  were  hriefiy  these :  a  cherry  table 
which  was  minus  one  leg,  whose  place  had  been  supplied 
by  a  broom-handle  fitted  in  its  place;  three  hard  woodea 
chairs  of  unknown  antiquity;  an  old  wash-stand;  a  rusty 
stove  which  Peter  had  picked  up  cheap  at  an  auction,  after 
finding  that  a  stove  burned  out  less  fuel  than  a  fireplace;  a 
few  articles  of  crockery  of  different  patterns,  some  cracked 
and  broken ;  a  few  tin  dishes,  such  as  Peter  found  essential 
in  his  cooking;  and  a  low  bedstead  with  a  scanty  supply  of 
bedclothes. 

Into  this  desolate  home  Peter  entered. 

There  was  an  ember  or  two  left  in  the  stove,  whiea 
the  old  man  contrived,  by  hard  blowing,  to  kindle  into  life. 
On  these  he  placed  a  few  sticks,  part  of  which  he  had  picked 
up  in  the  street  early  in  the  morning,  and  soon  there  was 
a  little  show  of  fire,  over  which  the  miser  spread  his  hands 
greedily  as  if  to  monopolize  what  little  heat  might  proceed 
therefrom.  He  looked  wistfully  at  the  pile  of  wood  remain- 
ing, but  prudence  withheld  him  from  putting  on  any  more. 

"Everything  costs  money,''  he  muttered  to  himself. 
"Three  times  a  day  I  have  to  eat,  and  that  costs  a  sight. 


A  Miser's  Household,  15 

"Why  couldn't  we  get  along  with  eating  once  a  day?  That 
■would  save  two-thirds.  Then  there's  fire.  That  costs 
money,  too.  Why  isn't  it  always  summer?  Then  we 
shouldn't  need  any  except  to  cook  by.  It  seems  a  sin  to 
throw  away  good,  bright,  precious  gold  on  what's  going  to 
b*  burnt  up  and  float  away  in  smoke.  One  might  almost 
a&  well  throw  it  into  the  river  at  once.  Ugh !  only  to  think 
©f  what  it  would  cost  if  I  couldn't  pick  up  some  sticks 
in  the  street.  There  was  a  little  girl  picking  up  some  this 
morning  when  I  was  out.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  her,  I 
should  have  got  more.  What  business  had  she  to  come 
there,  I  should  like  to  know? 

"Ugh,  ugh!'' 

The  blaze  was  dying  out,  and  Peter  was  obliged,  against 
hh  will,  to  put  on  a  fresh  supply  of  fuel. 

By  this  time  the  miser's  appetite  began  to  assert  itself, 
and,  rising  from  his  crouching  position  over  the  fire,  he 
walked  to  the  table  on  which  he  had  deposited  his  loaf  of 
feread.  With  an  old  jack-knife  he  carefully  cut  the  loaf  in 
two  equal  parts.  One  of  these  he  put  back  into  the  closet. 
From  the  same  place  he  also  brought  out  a  sausage,  and, 
placing  it  over  the  fire,  contrived  to  cook  it  after  a  fashion. 
Taking  it  off  he  placed  it  on  a  plate,  and  seated  himself 
©n  n  chair  by  the  table. 

It   was   long   since   the   old   man,   accustomed   to   stale 
hread — because  he  found  it  cheaper — had  tasted  ar- 
so  delicious. 

he  muttered,  with  a  sigh  of  satkfac- 


16  A  Miser's  Household. 

tion.  "I  don't  fare  so  well  every  day.  If  it  hadn't  beeu 
for  that  unlucky  piece  of  gold,  perhaps  the  baker  would 
have  let  me  had  another  loaf  at  the  same  price." 

He  soon  despatched  the  half-loaf  which  he  allotted  to 
his  evening  meal. 

"I  think  I  could  eat  the  other  half/'  he  said,  with  unsat- 
isfied hunger;  "but  I  must  save  that  for  breakfast.  It  is 
hurtful  to  eat  too  much.     Besides,  here  is  my  sausage." 

The  sausage  was  rather  burned  than  cooked,  but  Peter 
was  neither  nice  nor  fastidious.  He  did  not  eat  the  whole 
of  the  sausage,  however,  but  reserved  one-half  of  this,  too, 
for  breakfast,  though  it  proved  so  acceptable  to  his  palate 
that  he  came  near  yielding  to  the  temptation  of  eating  the 
whole.  But  prudence,  or  rather  avarice,  prevailed,  and, 
shaking  his  head  with  renewed  determination,  he  carried 
it  to  the  closet  and  placed  it  on  the  shelf. 

Between  seven  and  eight  o'clock  Peter  prepared  to  go 
to  bed,  partly  because  this  would  enable  him  to  dispense 
with  a  fire,  the  cost  of  which  he  considered  so  ruinous. 
He  had  but  just  commenced  his  preparations  for  bed  when 
a  loud  knock  was  heard  at  the  street  door. 

At  the  first  sound  of  the  knocking  Peter  Manson  started 
in  affright.  Such  a  thing  had  not  occurred  in  his  expe- 
rience for  years. 

"It's  some  drunken  fellow,"  thought  Peter.  "He's  mis- 
taken the  house.  I'll  blow  out  the  candle,  and  then  he'll 
think  there's  nobody  here." 

He  listened  again,  in  hopes  to  hear  the  receding  steps 


A  Miser's  Household.  17 

of  the  visitor,  but  in  vain.  After  a  brief  interval  there 
came  another  knock,  louder  and  more  imperative  than  the 
first. 

Peter  began  to  feel  a  little  uneasy. 

"Why  don't  he  go?"  he  muttered  peevishly.  "He  can't 
have  anything  to  do  with  me.  Nobody  ever  comes  here. 
He's  mistaken  the  house." 

His  reflections  were  here  interrupted  by  a  volley  of 
knocks,  each  apparently  louder  than  the  last. 

"Oh,  dear,  what  shall  I  do?"  exclaimed  the  miser,  with 
a  ludicrous  mixture  of  terror  and  perplexity.  "It's  some 
desperate  ruffian,  I  know  it  is.  I  wish  the  police  would 
come.    I  shall  be  robbed  and  murdered." 

Peter  went  to  the  window  and  put  his  head  out,  hoping 
to  discover  something  of  his  troublesome  visitor.  The  noise 
of  opening  the  window  attracted  his  attention. 

"Hello!"  he  shouted.  "I  thought  I'd  make  you  hear 
some  time  or  other.  I  began  to  think  you  were  as  deaf  as 
a  post,  or  else  had  kicked  the  bucket." 

"Who's  there  ?"  asked  Peter,  in  a  quavering  voice. 

"Who's  there !  Come  down  and  see,  and  don't  leave  a 
fellow  to  hammer  away  all  night  at  your  old  rat-trap. 
Come  down  and  open  the  door." 

"This  ain't  the  house,"  said  Peter.  "You've  made  a 
mistake.     Nobody  ever  comes  here." 

"No  more  I  should  think  they  would,  if  you  always  keep 
'em  waiting  as  long  as  you  have  me.  Come  along  down 
and  let  me  in." 


18  A  Miser's  Household. 

"But  I  teu  vou,"  persisted  Peter,  who  didn;t  at  all  like 
the  visitor's  manners,  "that  you've  made  a  mistake.  This 
ain't  the  house." 

"Ain't  what  house,  I'd  like  to  know  ?" 

"It  ain't  the  house  you  think  it  is,"  said  the  old  man, 
e  little  puzzled  by  this  epiestion. 

"'And  what  house  do  I  think  it  is?  Tell  me  that,  you 
old " 

Probahly  the  sentence  would  have  been  finished  in  a 
manner  uncomplimentary  to  Peter,  but  perhaps,  from  mo- 
tives of  policy,  the  stranger  suppressed  what  he  had 
intended  to  say. 

"I  don't  know,"  returned  Peter,  at  a  loss  for  a  reply, 
"but  there's  a  mistake  somewhere.  Nobody  comes  to  see 
me." 

"I  shouldn't  think  they  would,"  muttered  the  outsider, 
"but  evei-y  rule  has  its  exceptions,  and  somebody's  come  to 
eee  you  now."' 

"You've  mistaken  the  person." 

"No,  1  haven't.  Little  chance  of  making  a  mistake. 
'You're  old  Peter  Manson." 

"lie  has  come  to  see  me,"  thought  Peter  uneasily:  '"but 
it  can:  any  good  end.     I  won't  let  him  in;  no,  I 

■won't  let  liim  in." 

"Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?"  asked  his 
Would-be  visitor  impatiently. 

"It's  te  to  see  you  to-night." 

"Fiddlestick!"  retorted  the  other,     "It  isn't  eight  yet." 


A  Miser's  Household.  ly 

''•;  i  added  Peter,  becoming  morr' en« 

tarily  more  uneasy  at  the  man's  obstinacy. 

"Going  to  bed  at  half-past  seven!  Come,  now,  that's 
all  a  joke.     You  don't  take  me  for  a  fool !" 

"But  I  am,"  urged  Peter;  "I  always  do.     I'm  very 
and  can't  afford  to  keep  a  fire  and  light  going  all  the 
evening." 

"You  poor!  Well,  maybe  you  are.  But  that  ain't 
neither  here  nor  there.  I  have  got  some  important  busi- 
ness to  see  you  about,  and  you  must  let  me  in.7' 

"Come  to-morrow." 

"It's  no  use;  I  must  see  you  to-night.  So  just  come 
down  and  let  me  in,  or  it'll  be  the  worse  for  you." 

"What  a  dreadful  ruffian !"  groaned  Peter.  "I  wish  a 
policeman  would  come  along,  but  he  never  does  when  1  s'a 
wanted.  Go  away,  good  man,"  he  said,  in  a  wheedling 
tone.     "Go  away,  and  come  again  to-morrow." 

"I  tell  you  I  won't  go  away.     I  must  see  you  to-night." 

Convinced  that  the  man  was  not  to  be  denied,  Peter, 
groaning  with  fear,  went  down,  and,  reluctantly  drawing 
the  bolt,  admitted  the  visitor. 


CHAPTEE  III. 

THE  UNWELCOME  VISITOR. 

Opening  the  door  with  trembling  hand,  Peter  Mansoa 
saw  before  him  a  stout  man  of  forty-five,  with  a  complexion 
bronzed  by  exposure  to  the  elements. 

Short  and  thick-set,  with  a  half-defiant  expression,  as  if, 
to  use  a  common  phrase,  he  "feared  neither  man  nor 
devil,"  a  glance  at  him  served  hardly  to  reassure  the 
apprehensive  old  man. 

The  stranger  was  attired  in  a  suit  of  coarse  clothing, 
and  appeared  to  possess  little  education  or  refinement. 
He  might  be  a  sailor — there  was  an  indefinable  something 
about  him,  a  certain  air  of  the  sea,  that  justified  the  sus- 
picion that  he  had  passed  some  part  of  his  life,  at  least, 
in  the  realms  of  Father  Neptune. 

Peter  Manson,  holding  in  his  hand  the  fragment  of 
candle  which  flickered  wildly  from  the  sudden  gust  of 
wind  which  rushed  in  at  the  door  just  opened,  stood  in 
silent  apprehension,  gazing  uneasily  at  his  unwelcome 
visitor. 

"Well,  shipmate,"  said  the  latter  impatiently,  "how  long 
are  you  going  to  stand  staring  at  me?  It  makes  me  feel 
bashful,  not  to  speak  of  its  not  being  over  and  above  civil." 

"What  do  vou  want?"  inquired  Peter,  his  alarm  a  little 
20 


The  Unwelcome  Visitor.  21 

increased  by  this  speech,  making,  at  the  same  cime,  a 
motion  as  if  to  close  the  door. 

"First  and  foremost,  I  should  like  to  be  invited  in  some- 
where, where  it  isn't  quite  so  public  as  at  the  street  door. 
My  business  is  of  a  private  nature." 

"I  don't  know  you,"  said  the  miser  uneasily. 

"Well,  what's  the  odds  if  I  know  you  ?"  was  the  careless 
reply.  "Come,  push  ahead.  Where  do  you  live?  Up- 
stairs, or  down-stairs  ?  I  want  to  have  a  little  private  talk 
with  you  somewhere." 

The  speaker  was  about  to  cross  the  threshold,  when 
Peter  stepped  in  front,  as  if  to  intercept  him,  and  said 
hurriedly:  "Don't  come  in  to-night;  to-morrow  will  do 
just  as  well." 

"By  your  leave,"  said  the  visitor  coolly,  pushing  his  way 
in  in  spite  of  the  old  man's  feeble  opposition.  "I  have 
already  told  you  that  I  wanted  to  see  you  to-night.  Didn't 
you  hear  me  ?" 

"Thieves !"  the  old  man  half-ejaculated,  but  was  checked 
by  the  other  somewhat  sternly. 

"No,  old  man,  I  am  not  a  thief;  but  if  you  don't  have 
done  with  your  stupid  charges,  I  may  be  tempted  to  verify 
your  good  opinion  by  trying  my  hand  at  a  little  robbery. 
Now,  lead  the  way  to  your  den,  wherever  it  is,  if  you  know 
what  is  best  for  yourself." 

The  outer  door  was  already  closed,  and  Peter  felt  that  he 
was  at  his  intruder's  mercy.  Nevertheless,  there  was  some- 
thing in  this  last  speech,  rough  and  imperative  as  it  was, 


22  The  Unwelcome  Visitor. 

that  gave  him  a  little  feeling  of  security,  so  far  as  he  had 
loeen  led  to  suspect  any  designs  on  his  property  on  the  part 
©f  his  companion. 

Without  venturing  upon  any  further  remonstrance, 
which,  it  was  clear,  would  prove  altogether  useless,  he 
shuffled  up-stairs,  in  obedience  to  the  stranger's  command, 
yet  not  without  casting  hack  over  Ms  shoulder  a  look  of 
apprehension,  as  if  he  feared  an  attack  from  behind. 

His  visitor,  perceiving  this,  smiled,  as  if  amused  at  old 
Peter's  evident  alarm. 

Arrived  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  Peter  opened  the  door 
into  the  apartment  appropriated  to  his  own  use. 

The  stranger  followed  him  in,  and,  after  a  leisurely 
glance  about  the  room,  seated  himself  with  some  caution 
in  a  chair,  which  did  not  look  very  secure. 

Peter  placed  the  flickering  candle  upon  the  mantel-piece 
and  seated  himself. 

It  was  long,  very  long,  since  a  visitor  had  wakened  the 
echoes  of  the  old  house ;  very  long  since  any  human  being, 
save  Peter  himself,  had  been  seated  in  that  room.  The  old 
mnn  could  not  help  feeling  it  to  be  a  strange  thing,  so 
unaccustomed  was  he  to  the  sight  of  any  other  human  face 
there. 

"It  seems  to  me."  said  his  visitor  dryly,  taking  in  at  a 
glance  all  the  appointments  of  the  room,  "that  you  don't 
care  much  about  the  luxuries  of  life." 

**I/'  said  Peter,  "I'm  obliged  to  live  very  plain — very 
plain,  indeed — because  I  am  so  poor." 


The  Unwelcome  Visitor.  83 

"Poor  or  not,"  said  the  visitor,  "you  must  afford  to  ha?e 
a  better  fire  while  I  am  here.    I  don't  approve  of  freezing." 

He  rose  without  ceremony,  and  taking  half  a  dozen 
sticks  from  the  hearth,  deposited  them  in  the  stove,  which 
now  contained  only  some  burning  embers. 

"Stay,"  said  Peter  hastily.  "Don't  put  so  much  on ;  it's 
wasteful,  and  I  sha'n't  have  any  left  for  to-morrow." 

"I'll  risk  that,"  said  the  other  carelessly.  "At  any  rate, 
it's  better  to  be  comfortable  one  day  than  to  shiver  through 
two." 

The  flame  caught  the  wood,  which  soon  blazed  up, 
diffusing  an  unusually  cheerful  glow  over  the  apartment. 
Peter,  in  spite  of  the  dismay  with  which  he  had  at  first 
contemplated  the  sudden  movement  on  the  part  of  his 
visitor,  and  the  awful  consumption  of  wood  which  he 
knew  must  ensue,  nevertheless  appeared  to  enjoy  the  in- 
creased heat.  He  drew  his  chair  nearer  the  stove,  and  an. 
expression  of  satisfaction  was  visible  in  his  face  as  he 
spread  out  both  hands  to  catch  a  little  warmth. 

"There,  Peter,"  said  the  stranger,  "I  knew  you'd  like  it 
after  it  was  fairly  done.  Isn't  it  worth  while  to  have  a 
good  warm  fire?" 

"If  it  didn't  cost  so  much,"  groaned  Peter,  the  one 
thought  intruding. 

"Hush,  Peter;  if  what  people  say  be  true,  and  as  I  ant 
inclined  to  believe,  there's  no  one  better  able  to  afford  a 
good  fire  than  you." 

"No  era  better  able!"  repeated  Peter,  at  once  taking 


24  The  Unwelcome  Visitor. 

alarm,  and  lifting  up  both  hands  in  earnest  deprecation, 
"when  I  can  hardly  get  enough  together  to  keep  from 
absolute  starvation.  Oh,  it's  a  strange  world,  it's  a  strange 
world !" 

"Well,  Peter,  some  strange  people  do  live  in  it,  to  be 
sure.  But  people  do  say,  Peter,  that  you  have  a  power  of 
money  hidden  away  in  this  old  house  somewhere." 

Peter  started  to  his  feet  in  affright,  then  feeling  that 
his  movement  might  lead  to  suspicion,  sank  back  into  his 
seat,  saying  uneasily:  "I  only  wish  it  were  true.  People 
say  such  strange  things.  But  it's  only  idle  talk,  idle  talk. 
They  know  better." 

"You'd  be  very  grateful,  I  have  no  doubt,  to  anybody 
that  would  show  you  where  all  these  treasures  are  that 
people  talk  about,  wouldn't  you,  hey?" 

"Ye — yes,"  answered  Peter  Manson,  who  did  not  know 
quite  how  to  understand  his  companion,  whose  tone  seemed 
to  have  a  hidden  meaning  which  made  him  uneasy. 

"And  will  you  give  me  leave  to  search  the  house,  if  I 
will  promise  to  give  you  half  the  gold  I  find  ?" 

"But  you  wouldn't  find  any,"  answered  the  miser  hastily. 

"Then  there  would  be  no  harm  done.  Suppose,  now,  I 
should  remove  the  flooring  just  here,  for  instance,  don't 
you  think  I  might  possibly  find  something  underneath  that 
would  repay  me  for  my  search?" 

Unconsciously,  the  speaker  had  hit  upon  one  of  Peter's 
places  of  deposit.  Directly  under  where  he  was  seated 
there  was  a  box  of  coins.     Accordingly,  this  remark,  which 


The  Unwelcome  Visitor.  25 

seemed  to  indicate  to  Peter  some  knowledge  of  his  hiding- 
place,  filled  him  with  fearful  apprehensions. 

"No,  no,"  said  he  vehemently;  "go  away,  there  isn't  any 
there.  If  that  is  all  you  have  got  to  say,  go  away  and 
leave  me  to  my  rest.  I  ought  to  be  in  bed;  it  is  getting 
late." 

"I  have  something  more  to  say,  Peter  Manson,"  re- 
turned his  companion.  "If  I  had  not,  I  should  not  have 
sought  you  to-night.  What  I  have  to  say  is  of  great 
importance  to  you,  as  you  will  find.    Will  you  hear  it  ?" 

"Go  on,"  muttered  Peter,  his  attention  arrested,  in  spite 
of  his  fears  by  the  stranger's  peculiar  tone. 

"First,  then,  let  me  tell  you  a  story.  It  may  be  real;  it 
may  be  only  fancy.  I  won't  say  anything  about  that.  By 
the  way,  Peter,  were  you  ever  in  the  West  Indies?" 

This  question  produced  a  singular  effect  upon  Peter, 
considering  its  apparently  unimportant  character.  He 
started,  turned  as  pale  as  his  ghastly  complexion  permitted, 
fixed  an  anxious  glance  upon  the  stranger,  who  looked  as 
if  nothing  particular  had  happened. 

"No,  I  was  never  there.  What  made  you  ask?" 
responded  the  miser. 

"Nothing  particular,"  said  the  other  carelessly;  "if  you 
were  never  there,  no  matter.  Only  it  is  there  that  what  I 
am  going  to  tell  you  happened.     But  to  my  story: 

"Some  twenty  years  ago  there  lived  in  the  city  of  Havana 
an  American  gentleman,  no  matter  about  his  name,  who 
had  established  himself  in  business  in  the  city.     He  had 


26  The  Unwelcome  Visitor. 

married  before  he  went  there,  and  had  a  daughter  auvat 
sixteen  years  of  age.  Well,  his  business  flourished.  Good 
luck  seemed  to  attend  him  in  all  his  ventures,  and  he 
seemed  likely  to  accumulate  enough  to  retire  upon  before 
many  years." 

Peter  started,  and  as  the  story  progressed  seemed  to  be 
internally  agitated.  A  keen  glance  satisfied  his  visitor  of 
this;  without  appearing  to  notice  it,  however,  he  went  on: 

"But  things  don't  always  turn  out  as  well  as  we  expect. 
Just  when  things  looked  brightest  there  came  a  sudden 
blow,  for  which  the  merchant  was  unprepared.  On  going 
to  his  counting-room  one  morning,  he  discovered  that  his 
bookkeeper  had  disappeared,  and,  what  was  worse,  had 
carried  off  with  him  the  sum  of  twenty  thousand  dollars — ■ 
a  large  sum,  was  it  not  ?" 

"What  is  all  this  to  me?"  demanded  Peter,  with  sudden 
fierceness. 

"I  will  tell  you  by  and  by,"  said  the  stranger  coolly. 
"And  I  will  take  the  liberty  to  put  a  little  more  wood  into 
the  stove,  and  then  go  on  with  my  story." 

"I — I'll  put  some  in,"  said  Peter. 

He  took  a  small  stick  about  half  as  large  round  as  his 
■wrist,  and,  opening  the  stove-door,  put  it  in. 

"That'll  do  to  begin  with,"  said  the  stranger,  following 
it,  to  Peter's  dismay,  with  half  a  dozen  larger  ones.  "Now 
we'll  be  comfortable." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A   STARTLING    QUESTION. 

While  Peter's  uneasiness  became  every  moment  more 
marked,  his  visitor  continued' 

"This  sad  defalcation  was  the  more  unfortunate  because 
on  that  very  day  notes  to  a  heavy  amount  became  due. 
Of  course,  the  merchant  was  unable  to  pay  them.  Do  you 
know  what  was  the  result?'' 

"How  should  I  know?"  asked  Peter  testily,  avoiding  the 
gaze  of  the  stranger,  and  fixing  his  eyes  uneasily  upon  the 
fire. 

"Of  course,  you  couldn't  know.  I  was  foolish  to  think 
such  a  thing." 

"Then  what  made  you  think  it?"  said  Peter,  in  a  petu- 
lant tone.  "I  don't  care  to  hear  your  story.  What  has  it 
got  to  do  with  me  ?" 

"Don't  be  in  too  much  of  a  hurry,  and  perhaps  you  will 
learn  quite  as  soon  as  you  care  to.  The  same  result  fol- 
lowed, which  always  does  follow  when  a  business  man 
cannot  meet  his  engagements.     He  failed." 

Peter  stirred  uneasily,  but  said  nothing. 

"His  character  for  integrity  was  such  that  there  were 
many  who  would  have  lent  him  a  helping  hand,  and  car- 
27 


28  A  Startling  Question. 

ried  him  safely  through  his  troubles;  but  he  was  over- 
whelmed by  the  blow,  and  sank  under  it.  Refusing  all 
offers  of  assistance,  he  took  to  his  bed,  and  some  six  months 
after  died." 

"And  what  became  of  his  daughter  ?"  asked  Peter,  show- 
ing a  little  curiosity  for  the  first  time. 

"Ha !  you  seem  to  be  getting  interested,"  exclaimed  the 
other,  fixing  his  keen  eyes  upon  Peter,  who  seemed  con- 
fused. "His  daughter  was  beautiful,  and  had  already  won 
the  heart  of  a  young  American,  who  had  little  money  but 
a  handsome  figure  and  good  business  habits." 

"Did  she  marry  this  young  Codman?" 

"Who  told  you  his  name  was  Codman?"  asked  Peter's 
visitor,  watching  him  keenly. 

"I — I  thought  you  did,"  stammered  the  miser,  discon- 
certed. 

"You  are  mistaken.     I  have  mentioned  no  name." 

"Then  I — I  must  have  misunderstood  you." 

"I  dare  say,"  said  the  other  ironically.  "However,  we 
won't  dispute  that  point.  Well,  this  young  Codman — for, 
singularly  enough,  you  hit  upon  the  right  name,  not 
knowing  anything  of  the  circumstances,  of  course — this 
young  Codman  married  Isabel." 

"Isabel !"  repeated  the  old  man.    "Her  name  was " 

Here  he  paused  in  sudden  confusion,  feeling  that  he  was 
betraying  himself  by  his  incautious  correction. 

"Yes,  Peter,"  said  the  other,  with  a  shrewd  smile,  "you 
are  right.     Her  name  was  not  Isabel,  but  Eleanor.     I 


A  Startling  Question.  29 

acknowledge  that  I  was  wrong;  but  it  seems  to  me  that, 
for  one  who  is  entirely  a  stranger  to  the  events  I  have 
been  describing,  you  show  a  wonderful  shrewdness  in 
detecting  my  mistakes." 

Peter  maintained  a  confused  silence,  and  wriggled  about 
uneasily,  as  if  the  stranger's  fixed  and  watchful  gaze 
disturbed  him. 

"Humph!  Well,  they  say  that  some  people  have  the 
gift  of  second  sight,  and  others  can  see  through  millstones, 
and  various  other  wonderful  things." 

"What  has  all  this  to  do  with  me  ?"  asked  Peter  crossly, 
for  he  felt  it  necessary  to  make  some  demonstration.  "It's 
getting  late,  and  I  want  to  go  to  bed.  Go  away,  and — 
and  come  again  to-morrow,  if  you  want  to." 

"A  bird  in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush,  Peter, 
which  means  that  I  am  sure  of  you  now,  and  perhaps  you 
wouldn't  let  me  in  if  I  should  call  to-morrow.  If  you  are 
sleepy,  I  have  no  objection  to  your  going  to  bed.  I  can 
talk  to  you  as  well  as  if  you  were  sitting  up.  I  will  stay 
here  and  keep  the  fire  going.'" 

Peter  looked  at  the  small  pile  of  wood  with  a  groan,  and 
muttered  something  about  "its  being  awful  extravagant  to 
keep  such  a  fire." 

"I  believe,"  said  the  stranger,  "I  have  not  yet  told  you 
the  name  of  the  defaulting  clerk." 

Peter  said  nothing. 

"It  was  Thornton,  but  his  first  name  was  Peter,  the 
same  as  yours.     Singular,  isn't  it,  Peter?" 


30  A  Startling  Question. 

"I  suppose  there  are  a  good  many  Peters  in  the  world," 
muttered  the  old  man. 

"Very  likely ;  though  I  hope  most  of  them  are  better 
than  this  Peter  Thornton.  He  got  of?  without  being  taken, 
with  the  twenty  thousand  dollars  in  his  possession.  He 
was  fond  of  money,  and  many  thought  this  explained  the 
defalcation.  However,  there  were  no  wanting  others  who 
assigned  a  different  motive.  It  was  said  that  he  had  been 
smitten  by  the  youthful  charm.-,  of  his  emplo3rer's  daughter 
Eleanor,  who  did  not  favor  his  suit." 

Peter  shifted  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

"Xo  one  could  blame  her.  In  fact,  it  was  perfectly  pre- 
posterous for  him  to  think  of  mating  with  her.  Did  you 
speak  ?" 

"No  P  snarled  Peter. 

"I  thought  you  said  something.  I  repeat  that  she  had 
plenty  of  reasons  for  rejecting  him.  She  was  just  sixteen, 
and  beautiful  as  she  was  young,  and  had  no  lack  of  ad- 
mirers ready  to  devote  themselves  to  her.  As  for  Peter 
Thornton,  ha,  ha !  he  never  could  have  been  very  hand- 
some,  from  all  I  have  heard  of  him.  in  the  first  place, 
he  was  forty,  or  more." 

"Thirty-eight,"  muttered  Peter,  below  his  breath. 

"And  his  features  were  irregular,  besides  being  marked 
with  the  smallpox,  which  he  had  had  in  early  life.  He  had 
a  hmg,  hooked  nose,  like  a  bird's  beak,  an  enormous  mouth, 


A  Startling  Question.  31 

already  mingled  with  gray.    On  the  whole,  he  hadn't  much 
beauty  to  boast  of.    Did  you  say  anything  ?" 

"No !'"  snarled  Peter  sourly.  He  was  sitting  with  his 
elbows  on  his  knees  and  his  face  resting  on  his  hands. 

"Beg  pardon,  I  thought  you  spoke.  To  add  to  Peter's 
charms  of  person,  his  disposition  was  not  the  sweetest  that 
ever  was.  He  had  a  harsh  and  crabbed  manner,  which 
would  have  led  to  his  discharge  if  he  had  not  had  one 
saving  trait.  I  will  say,  to  bis  credit,  that  he  was  a  capita) 
bookkeeper.  Of  his  honesty  bis  employer  thought  he  was 
well  assured,  and  probably,  if  nothing  had  occurred  of  a 
character  to  wound  Peter's  pride,  he  might  have  continued 
faithful  to  bis  trust.  One  day,  however,  Peter  took  an 
opportunity,  when  he  bad  been  calling  at  the  house  of  bis 
employer  on  business  connected  with  tbe  counting-room, 
to  declare  his  love  to  the  young  lady,  whom  he  found  alone 
in  the  drawing-room. 

"You  can  imagine  how  much  she  was  amused— why 
don't  you  laugh,  Peter?  You  look  as  glum  as  it  it  were 
you  that  had  met  this  disappointment.  Tbe  young  ; 
told  him  plainly,  as  soon  as  she  got  over  her  astonishment, 
that  she  could  give  him  no  encouragement  whatever.  Per- 
haps there  might  have  been  in  her  tone  something  of  the 
aversion  which  it  was  natural  for  hei  to  feel  a1  such  a 
proposition  from  one  so  much  beneath  her.  If  they  had 
married,  i,   w  ould  have  been  a  second  of  Beaut 

the     Beast.     Bes  ,     Peter,     I     believe     j'ou     said 

so       I      ' 


82  A  Startling  Question. 

"No!"  snarled  Peter  fiercely.  "Have  you  got  nearly 
through  ?  Your  story  is  nothing  to  me — nothing,  I  say.  I 
want  to  go  to  bed.     You  have  kept  me  up  too  late  already." 

"I  can't  help  that,  Peter.  It  took  me  too  long  to  get  in 
for  me  to  resign  readily  the  pleasure  of  your  society.  I 
say,  Peter,  what  a  jolly  good  fellow  you  are — quite  a  lively 
companion — only  it  strikes  me  you  might  he  a  little  more 
civil  to  your  company.  It  isn't  exactly  polite  to  keep 
telling  one  how  anxious  you  are  for  him  to  go. 

"As  I  was  saying  when  you  interrupted  me,  Eleanor  told 
Peter  very  decidedly  that  she  could  not  for  an  instant 
entertain  his  suit.  He  endeavored  to  change  her  determi- 
nation, being  an  ardent,  impulsive  lover,  and  probably  in 
her  impatience  she  said  something  which  irritated  her  lover, 
who  went  off  in  a  rage.  After  a  while,  however,  he  was 
foolish  enough  to  open  the  subject  again.  Of  course,  she 
was  extremely  annoyed  at  his  persistence,  and  seeing  no 
other  way  of  escaping  the  persecution,  she  felt  it  necessary 
to  acquaint  her  father  with  what  had  transpired. 

"The  merchant  was  naturally  indignant  at  his  book- 
keeper's presumption,  and  calling  him  aside  one  morning, 
threatened  to  discharge  him  from  his  employment  unless 
he  should  forthwith  desist.  This  was,  of  course,  a  great 
blow  to  Peter's  pride.  He  had  the  good  sense  to  say  noth- 
ing, however,  but  none  the  less  determined  within  himself 
to  be  revenged  upon  those  who  had  scorned  his  advances, 
as  soon  as  an  opportuity  offered.    I  don't  know  as  I  blame 


A  Startling  Question.  33 

him.  Perhaps  I  should  have  done  the  same  under  similar 
circumstances." 

There  was  a  trace  of  agitation  upon  the  pale  and  wrinkled 
countenance  of  the  miser. 

"This  it  was,"  continued  the  stranger,  "taken  in  con- 
nection with  Peter's  natural  cupidity,  that  led  to  the  defal- 
cation I  have  mentioned.  So  far  as  the  merchant  was 
concerned,  his  revenge  was  completely  successful,  for  he 
was  the  means  of  his  ruin  and  premature  death.  And  now, 
Peter,"  he  added,  suddenly  changing  his  tone,  "can  you  tell 
me  what  induced  you  to  change  your  name  from  Thornton 
to  Manson?" 

"Me !"  exclaimed  the  miser,  starting  to  his  feet  in 
consternation,  and  glaring  wildly  at  the  speaker. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    COMPACT    WITH    RANDALL. 

"Ye.?."  paid  the  stranger  composedly;  "I  repeat  the 
question,  why  did  you  change  your  name  to  Manson?" 

"What — do — you — mean?"  the  old  man  faltered  slowly. 

"I  mean  just  what  I  say,  and  I  see  you  understand  me 
well  enough." 

"Yon  can't  prove  it."  said  Peter,  with  an  uneasy  glance 
at.  his  imperturbable  companion. 

"(  an't  I  ?  Perhaps  not.  I  should  say  the  mysterious 
knowledge  you  seem  to  possess  of  the  main  incidents  in  my 
story  would  prove  something." 

"That  isn't  evidence  in  a  court  of  law/'  said  Peter, 
rig  a  degree  of  confidence. 

"Perhaps  not;  but  I  say.  Peter,  don't  you  recognize  me?'* 

The  old  man  scanned  his  features  eagerly,  and  a  sudden 
remembrance  satisfied  the  latter  that  he  was  not 
en. 

"I  see  you  do  remember  me,"  he  said.  "I  thought  you 
hadn't  forgotten  John  Randall.  At  any  rate,  he  hasn't 
forgotten  you.  though  twenty  years  have  passed,  and  I  was 
then  but  a  young  man.     I  ■  ■■    to  <  "ten  about 

the  streets  of  ii.  Looked  nose, 

34 


The  Compact  With  Eandall.  35 

those  gray  eyes,  and — excuse  my  plainness  of  speech — that 
large  mouth.  Yes,  Peter,  your  features  are  impressed  upon 
my  memory  too  indelihly  to  be  effaced." 

Peter  Manson  remembered  his  companion  as  one  who 
had  had  the  reputation  of  being  a  "wild"  young  man.  He 
had  been  placed  at  school  by  his  father  without  any  profit- 
able result.  On  his  father's  death  he  squandered,  in  dissi- 
pation, the  property  which  came  to  him,  and  had  since 
devoted  himself  to  the  sea. 

"Having  settled  this  little  matter  of  your  identity," 
continued  Eandall,  "I  am  ready  to  finish  my  story.  I 
told  you  that  Eleanor  married  the  young  man  whose  name 
you  remembered  so  well.  He  was  poor,  dependent  upon 
his  salary  as  a  clerk,  and,  thanks  to  you,  his  wife  had 
nothing  to  hope  from  her  father.  They  were  obliged  to 
live  in  a  very  humble  way.  At  length,  thinking  he  could 
do  better,  he  removed  to  Boston,  where  his  early  life  had 
been  spent." 

"To  Boston !"  muttered  Peter. 

"The  removal  took  place  some  six  years  since.  They 
had  three  children  when  they  first  came  here,  but  two  died, 
leaving  only  the  second,  a  boy,  named  Charlie.  I  should 
think  he  might  be  fourteen  years  of  age.  And  now,  would 
you  like  to  know  if  the  husband  is  still  living?" 

"Is  lie?"  asked  Peter,  looking  up. 

"No.     He  died  about  a  year  since,  of  a  fever." 

"And — and  Eleanor?    What  of  her?" 

"For  six  months  past  she  has  been  a  tenant  of  yours." 


36  The  Compact  With  Randall. 

"A  tenant  of  mine !"  exclaimed  the  miser. 

"It  is  even  so.  She  occupies  a  second-story  room  in  the 
tenement-house  in Street." 

"And  I  have  met  her  face  to  face  ?" 

"I  dare  say  you  have.  Your  tenants  are  pretty  sure  to 
have  that  pleasure  once  a  month.  But  doesn't  it  seem 
strange  that  Eleanor  Gray,  the  beautiful  daughter  of  your 
Havana  employer,  should  after  these  twenty  years  turn  up 
in  Boston,  the  tenant  of  her  father's  bookkeeper  ?" 

"Ha,  ha !"  chuckled  the  miser,  hoarsely.  "She  isn't  so 
much  better  off  than  if  she  had  married  old  Peter." 

"As  to  being  better  off,"  said  Randall,  "I  presume  she 
is  better  off,  though  she  can't  call  a  hundred  dollars  her 
own,  than  if  she  were  installed  mistress  of  your  establish- 
ment. Faugh !  Poorly  as  she  is  obliged  to  live,  it  is  luxury 
compared  with  your  establishment." 

He  glanced  about  him  with  a  look  of  disgust. 

"If  you  don't  like  it,"  said  Peter  querulously,  "there  is 
no  use  of  your  staying.     It  is  past  my  bed-time." 

"I  shall  leave  you  in  a  few  minutes,  Peter,  but  I  want 
to  give  you  something  to  think  of  first.  Don't  you  see 
that  your  property  is  in  danger  of  slipping  from  your 
hands?" 

"My  property  in  danger !"  exclaimed  Peter  wildly ; 
"what  do  you  mean?  Where  is  the  danger?"  Then,  his 
voice  sinking  to  its  usual  whine :  "Not  that  I  have  any  of 
any  consequence ;  I  am  poor — very  poor." 


The  Compact  With  Randall.  37 

"Only  from  what  I  see  I  could  easily  believe  it,  but  I 
happen  to  know  better." 

"Indeed,  I  am " 

"No  more  twaddle  about  poverty,"  said  Eandall  de- 
cidedl}',  "it  won't  go  down.  I  am  not  so  easily  deceived  as 
you  may  imagine.  I  know  perfectly  well  that  you  are 
worth,  at  the  very  least,  thirty  thousand  dollars." 

"Thirty  thousand  dollars !"  exclaimed  the  miser,  raising 
both  hands  in  astonishment. 

"Yes,  Peter,  and  I  don't  know  but  I  may  say  forty 
thousand.  Why,  it  can't  be  otherwise,  with  your  habits. 
Twenty  years  ago  you  made  off  with  twenty  thousand, 
which  has  been  increasing  ever  since.  Your  personal  ex- 
penses haven't  made  very  large  inroads  upon  your  income, 
judging  from  your  scarecrow  appearance.  So  much  the 
worse  for  you.  You  might  have  got  some  good  from  it. 
Now  it  must  go  to  others." 

"To  others !"  exclaimed  Peter,  turning  pale. 

"Certainly.  You  don't  think  the  law  gives  you  what- 
ever you've  a  mind  to  steal,  do  you  ?  Of  course,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  to  your  tenants,  Eleanor  and  Charlie  Codman, 
belongs  this  property  which  you  wrongfully  hold." 

"They  sha'n't  have  it !  They  never  shall  have  it !"  said 
Peter  Manson  hastily. 

"Well,  perhaps  the  law  may  have  something  to  say  about 
that." 

"My  money !"  groaned  the  miser.    "If  I  lose  that,  I  lose 


38  The  Compact  With  Kandall. 

everything.    It  will  be  my  death.    Goofl  Mr.  Randall,  have 
pity  on  me.     I  am  sure  you  won't  say  anything  that " 

"Will  bring  you  to  State's  prison,"  said  Randall  coolly. 

"They — Eleanor  and  her  son — need  never  know  it." 

"Unless  I  tell  them." 

''But  you  won't." 

"That  depends  upon  circumstances.  How  much  will 
you  give  me  to  keep  the  thing  secret  ?" 

"Precisely.  That  is  what  I  have  been  so  long  in  coming 
at.     You  see,  Peter,  that  the  secret  is  worth  something. 

"What  will  I  give  you?" 
Either  I  reveal  it  to  the  parties  interested,  in  which  case 
I  wouldn't  give  that!" — snapping  his  finger — "for  your 
chance  of  retaining  the  property,  or  I  keep  silence  if  you 
make  it  worth  my  while." 

"Pity  me,"  said  the  miser  abjectly,  sinking  on  his  knees 
before  Randall;  "pity  me,  and  spare  my  money." 

"Pity  you !"  said  Randall  contemptuously.  "Why  didn't 
you  pity  your  employer?  You  must  make  up  your  mind 
to  pay  me  my  price." 

"I  am  very  poor,"  whined  Peter,  in  his  customary 
phrase,  "and  I  can't  pay  much." 

"Oh,  yes,  Peter,"  said  the  other  sarcastically,  "I  am  well 
aware  that  you  are  poor — wretchedly  poor — and  I  won't  be 
too  hard  upon  you." 

"Thank  you — thank  you,"  said  Peter,  catching  at  this 
promise.     "I  will  give  you  something— a  little "' 

"How  much?"  asked  Randall,  with  some  curiosity. 


The  Compact  With  Randan  39 

•*Ten  dollars!"  said  the  miser,  with  the  ai,  oi  a  man 
who  named  a  large  sum. 

"Ten  dollars!"  returned  Randall,  with  a  laugh  of  :  i- 
sion.  "Ten  dollars  to  secure  the  peaceable  possession  of 
tnirty  thousand!  Old  man.  you  must  be  mad,  or  you  must 
think  that  I  am.'" 

"I — I  did  not  mean  to  offend,"  said  the  old  man  humbly. 
"If  I  double  the  sum,  will  it  satisfy  you  ?  1 — I  will  try  to 
raise  it,  though  it  will   .e  hard — very  hard." 

"This  is  mere  trifling,  Peter  Hanson,"  said  his  visitor 
decidedly.  "Twenty  dollars !  Why,  I  wouldn't  have  come 
across  the  street  to  get  it.  Xo,  you  will  have  to  elevate 
your  ideas  considerably."* 

"How  much  do  you  demand?"  said  the  miser,  groaning 
internal!}1,  and  fixing  his  ey  is  anxiously  upon  Randall. 

"You  must  not  make  a  fuss  when  I  name  the  amount." 

"Name  it,"  said  Peter,  in  a  choking  voice. 

"One  thousand  dollars  will  purchase  ray  silence,  and 
not  a  dollar  less." 

Peter  sprang  from  his  seat  in  consternation. 

"One  thousand  dollars !     Surely  you  are  not  in  earnest." 

"But  I  am,  though.  This  is  not  a  subject  I  care  to  jett 
upon." 

"One  thousand  dollars !  It  will  take  all  I  have,  aud 
leave  me  a  beggar." 

"If  it  should,  Peter,"  said  his  visitor  composedly,  "I  will 
procure  your  admission  to  the  poorhouse,  where,  if  I  am 


40  The  Compact  With  Randall. 

not  much  mistaken,  you  will  be  better  off  than  in  this 
tumble-down  old  shanty." 

"Has  the  man  no  mere}7?"  groaned  Peter,  wringing  his 
hands. 

"None  at  all." 

"Then,"  exclaimed  the  miser,  in  a  sudden  fit  of  despera- 
tion, "I  won't  pay  you  a  cent — not  a  single  cent." 

"That  is  your  final  determination,  is  it  ?" 

"Ye — Yes,"  muttered  Peter,  bui  less  firmly. 

"Very  well.  I  will  tell  you  the  result.  I  shall  at  once 
go  to  Eleanor,  and  inform  her  of  the  good  fortune  which 
awaits  her.  No  fear  but  she  will  pay  me  a  thousand 
dollars  for  the  intelligence." 

"She  has  no  money." 

"I  will  furnish  her  with  money  for  the  lawyers — she 
can  repay  me  out  of  your  hoards." 

Peter  groaned. 

"Aye,  groan  away,  Peter.  You'll  have  cause  enough 
to  groan  by  and  by.  There  is  one  thing  you  don't  seem  to 
consider:  that  the  law  will  do  something  more  than  take 
away  your  property.     I  will  come  to  see  you  in  jail." 

He  rose  to  leave  the  room,  but  Peter  called  him  back 
hastily.     "'We  may  come  to  terms  yet,"  he  said. 

"Then  you  accede  to  my  terms." 

"I  will  give  you  five  hundred." 

"Good  night,  Peter.     I  wish  you  happy  dreams." 

"St-stay !"  exclaimed  Peter,  terrified.  "I  will  give  eight 
hundred." 


The  Compact  With  Randau  ±i 

"I  am  in  something  of  a  hurry,"  said  Randau.  'i  be- 
lieve I  will  call  on  Eleanor.  I  don't  think  we  can.  make 
any  arrangement." 

"Hold !    Perhaps  I  will  do  as  you  say." 

"Ah !  now  you  are  beginning  to  be  reasonable,"  said 
Randall,  resuming  his  seat. 

"What  security  can  you  give  me  for  your  silence  ?" 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  Peter.  You  remember  I  told 
you  Eleanor  had  a  son,  a  boy  of  fourteen." 

"Yes." 

"His  mother  is  quite  devoted  to  him.  Indeed,  he  con- 
tributes to  her  support  by  selling  papers,  and  by  various 
little  jobs.  Now,  as  long  as  Eleanor  lives  here  you  are  in 
danger." 

"Yes." 

"And  if  a  blow  is  leveled  at  her  it  must  be  through  her 

boy" 

"I  see." 

"Then  I'll  tell  you  of  a  scheme  I  have  arranged.  You 
must  first  know  that  I  am  mate  of  a  vessel  now  in  port, 
which  is  bound  for  San  Francisco.  We  are  to  sail  in  a  few 
days." 

"Well?" 

"We  hapepn  to  be  in  want  of  a  boy  to  fill  up  our  regular 
number.  Suppose  I  kidnap  Eleanor's  boy.  Don't  you  see 
that,  as  he  is  her  chief  support,  she  will  soon  be  in  diffi- 
culties?    And  this,  with  her  uncertainty  about  her  boy's 


42  The  Compact  With  Randall. 

fate,  may  rid  you  of  your  greatest  peril,  and  the  only  one 
of  the  two  who  could  identify  you." 

"Excellent,  excellent !"  chuckled  Peter,  rubbing  hie 
hands.  "She  shall  yet  be  sorry  that  she  rejected  o!4 
Peter." 

"Am  I  to  understand  that  you  accede  to  my  proposal, 
then?" 

Not  without  many  groans,  Peter  agreed  to  deliver  the 
sum  mentioned  between  them,  on  condition  that  the  boy 
was  secured. 

It  was  striking  ten  when  Eandall  left  the  house.  His 
face  beamed  with  exultation. 

"I  have  done  a  good  night's  work,"  he  said.  "By  work- 
ing on  the  fears  of  the  old  curmudgeon  I  have  made  sure 
of  a  thousand  dollars.  He  will  be  lucky  if  this  is  the  las* 
money  I  get  out  of  him.  He  little  thinks  that  I.  too.  have 
a  revenge  to  wreak.  He  is  not  the  only  one  that  has  been 
scornfully  rejected  by  Eleanor  Codinan.  Now  to  bed,  and 
to-morrow  shall  see  my  work  commenced." 


CHAPTEK  VI. 

CHARLIE   AT   HOME. 

The  tenement-house  owned  by  Peter  Manson  was  a 
three-story  wooden  building,  very  much  in  need  of  paint. 
It  was  scarcely  likely  to  be  pointed  out  by  any  one  as  one 
of  the  architectural  ornaments  of  the  city.  Years  before  it 
had  fallen  into  Peter's  hands  at  a  small  price,  and  he  had 
every  year  since  realized  from  it  in  the  way  of  rent  a  sum 
equal  to  one-half  the  purchase-money.  No  one  who  has 
lived  in  a  city  can  help  knowing  how  much  more  propor- 
tionally the  poor  are  compelled  to  pay  for  their  scanty  and 
insufficient  accommodations  than  the  rich,  or  those  in  mod- 
erate circumstances.  No  class  of  property  is  made  to  pay 
a  larger  percentage  than  the  wretched  tenement-houses, 
which  seem  adapted  to  furnish  as  little  accommodation  as 
possible  to  those  who  are  compelled  to  occupy  them. 

The  tenement-house  in  which  Charlie  and  his  mother 
lived  was  no  better  than  the  average.  It  was  the  home  of 
a  large  number  of  persons  of  various  occupations.  Seam- 
stresses, mechanics,  washerwomen,  and  many  others  found 
a  home  under  this  one  roof. 

Mrs.  Codman  occupied  a  room  on  the  second  floor.  As 
soe  entered  the  room  it  was  easy  to  see  what  a  charm  can 
43 


44  Charlie  at  Home. 

be  thrown  around  even  the  humblest  place  by  the  presence 
of  refinement  and  good  taste.  All  the  appointments  of  the 
room,  indeed,  were  of  the  cheapest  description.  Probably 
the  furniture  did  not  exceed  in  cost  that  of  the  room  oppo- 
site. Yet  there  was  a  considerable  difference  in  the  appear- 
ance of  Mrs.  Codman's  room  and  that  of  Sally  Price. 

The  old-fashioned  windows  were  washed  as  clean  as  water 
could  make  them,  so  as  to  admit  all  the  sunshine  which 
could  find  its  way  over  the  tall  roof  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  street.  They  were  hung  with  plain  chintz  curtains, 
separated  in  the  middle  and  looped  on  either  side.  The 
floor  was  quite  clean  as  far  as  it  could  be  seen.  In  the 
center  was  spread  a  floor-cloth  some  eight  feet  square, 
which  relieved  its  bareness.  There  was  a  small  round  table 
near  the  window,  and  a  small  square  work-table  of  no  very 
costly  material  in  another  part  of  the  room.  On  this  was 
placed  a  rose  bush  in  a  flower-pot.  It  had  been  given  to 
Charlie  by  an  old  gentleman  who  had  taken  a  fancy  to 
him. 

In  another  place  was  a  home-made  lounge,  the  work  of 
Charlie's  hands.  It  had  originally  been  a  wooden  box, 
given  him  by  a  shopkeeper  near-by.  This  box  had  been 
covered  with  calico  stuffed  with  cotton,  so  that  it  made  quite 
a  comfortable  seat.  It  was  used,  besides,  as  a  wood-box, 
its  legitimate  province;  but  when  the  cover  was  closed  it 
was,  nevertheless,  a  very  respectable  article  of  furniture. 
There  were,  besides,  a  few  plain  wooden  chairs  and  a  small 
rocking-chair  for  Mrs.  Codman.     Opening  out  of  the  main 


Charlie  at  Home.  45 

room  was  a  small  bedroom,  occupied  by  the  mother,  while 
Charlie  had  a  bed  made  up  for  him  at  night  in  the  common 
sitting-room. 

A  few  books — a  very  few — were  piled  upon  the  little 
table.  They  were  chiefly  school-books — an  arithmetic,  a 
geography,  and  an  atlas,  over  which  Charlie  would  gen- 
erally spend  a  portion  of  every  evening,  and  occasionally  a 
boy's  book,  lent  him  by  his  friend,  Edwin  Bangs,  who,  to- 
gether with  his  brothers,  had  quite  a  large  juvenile  library. 

Mrs.  Codman  was  sitting  by  the  window,  industriously 
engaged  in  needle-work,  and  intent  on  accomplishing  a 
certain  amount  before  nightfall.  She  was  past  thirty-five, 
yet,  in  spite  of  the  trials  which  have  left  their  impress  on 
her  brow,  she  would  readily  be  taken  for  five  years  younger. 
She  had  drawn  her  chair  to  the  window,  to  make  the  most 
of  the  rapidly  fading  daylight,  as  with  swift  fingers  she 
plied  the  glistening  needle. 

There  was  a  hasty  step  on  the  stairs,  a  stamping  at  the 
door,  and  in  rushed  a  bright,  handsome  boy,  with  rosy 
cheeks  and  dark  hair. 

The  mother's  face  lighted  up  with  a  bright  smile  as  she 
turned  to  her  son,  the  only  one  she  had  left  to  love. 

"You're  a  little  later  than  usual,  Charlie,  are  you  not?" 
she  said. 

"A  little,  mother.  You  see,  I  didn't  get  a  job  till  late, 
and  then  two  came  together." 

"What  were  they  ?" 

"'A  gentleman  wanted  me  to  take  his  grip  from  the 


46  Charlie  at  Home. 

Maine  depot,  and  I  had  to  carry  it  away  up  to  Rutland 

Street." 

"Did  lie  go  with  you?" 

"No ;  he  had  to  go  to  his  office  in  State  Street." 

"Was  he  willing  to  trust  you?     Some  boys  might  have 

made  off  with  the  bag,  and  he  would  never  have  seen  it 

"He  thought  of  that,  but  he  said — and  I  think  he's  a 
real  gentleman — that  he  knew  I  was  honest  by  my  appear- 
ance, and  he  was  willing  to  trust  me." 

"Quite  complimentary,  Charlie.  How  much  did  he  pay 
yon  for  your  trouble  ?" 

"Half  a  dollar." 

"Then  you  have  done  a  good  deal  better  than  I  have.  I 
have  been  working  all  day,  and  shall  not  realize  more  than 
twenty-five  cents  for  my  labor/' 

"I  wish  you  didn't  have  to  work  at  all,  mother." 

"Thank  you,  Charlie;  but  I  dare  say  I  am  happier  for 
having  something  to  do.  I  wish  I  could  get  better  pay 
for  my  work.  But  you  haven't  told  me  what  the  other 
errand  was.     You  said  you  had  two." 

"Yes,"  said  Charlie ;  "I  had  just  got  back  from  Eutland 
Street,  and  had  bought  two  or  three  evening  papers  which 
I  was  going  to  try  to  sell,  when  a  man  came  up  to  me,  and, 
after  looking  at  me  for  a  minute  or  two,  asked  me  if  I 
:e  a  little  walk  with  him.  He  said  he  was  a 
stranger  in  Boston,  and  didn't  know  his  way  about  much. 
He  asked  me  if  I  had  lived  hero  long  and  what  my  name 


Charlie  at  Home.  47 

wa*.  lie  told  me  he  would  pay  me  if  I  would  go  arouud 
with  him  and  point  out  some  of  the  public  buildings.  He 
told  me  he  would  pay  me  at  the  rate  of  twenty-five  cents 
an  hour  for  my  time.  I  told  him  I  had  one  or  two  papers 
to  dispose  of. 

"  'Never  mind  about  them,'  said  he,  'I  will  take  them  off 
your  hands.' 

"  'But  they  are  alike,'  said  I. 

'"  "'Never  mind,'  he  answered ;  so  lie  paid  me  the  full 
price  for  two  Journals  and  two  Transcripts,  and  off  we 
went," 

"What  sort  of  a  person  was  he?" 

"He  was  a  stout  man,  over  forty,  and  looked  to  me  like 
a  sailor.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  was  an  officer  of  some 
ship." 

"Did  you  like  his  looks?"' 

"Why,"  said  Charlie,  hesitatingly,  "not  exactly;  not  so 
much  as  I  did  of  the  othei  in.     There  was  some- 

thing about  his  e;  n't  like.     Still,  he  acted  up 

to  his  agreement,  and  me  all  he  promi 

"  •     ■   .'  ■  '     ogethei 
an    hour   a  :'.     We   walked  round   the 

Co]  mcl  the  Publi  i.  went  into  the  Slate  House 

.'  lie  Lil i]  ■■■  he  didn't  seem  to  care 

much  about  them.  He  seemed  to  take  more  interest  in 
me,  somehow,  and  asked  me  a  good  many  questions; 
whether  I  had  any  parents  living,  and  how   long  I  had 


48  Charlie  at  Home. 

lived  in  the  city.  When  I  told  him  you  were  born  in 
Havana,  he  said  he  used  to  live  there  himself." 

"Indeed !"  said  Mrs.  Codman. 

"He  also  told  me  that  he  might  like  to  have  me  go  round 
with  him  again,  and  told  me  to  call  to-morrow  at  the 
Quiney  House,  where  he  is  stopping.  But,  mother,  isn't 
it  most  time  for  supper?  Here,  just  let  me  set  the  table, 
if  you  are  busy/' 

"Very  well,  Charlie;  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  do  so, 
as  I  am  in  a  hurry  to  finish  my  sewing." 

In  the  evening  Charlie  read  to  his  mother  while  she 
sewed.  Neither  of  them  suspected  that  it  was  the  last 
evening  they  would  spend  together  for  several  months. 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

CAPTAIN  BRACE. 

Lying  at  one  of  the  wharves  was  a  ship  of  moderate  size, 
evidently  fast  getting  ready  for  sea.  The  cargo  had  all 
been  stowed  away,  and,  notwithstanding  the  confusion,  it 
was  easy  even  for  a  landsman  to  see  that  the  ship  was  about 
ready  for  departure. 

The  ship  was  the  Bouncing  Betsy,  commanded  by  Cap- 
tain Nathaniel  Brace.  He  was  a  short,  stout,  broad-shoul- 
dered man.  He  was  no  fresh-water  captain,  but  from  the 
age  of  thirteen  had  been  tossing  about  on  the  ocean.  He 
had  little  education  beyond  what  was  required  by  his  pro- 
fession, and  was  utterly  lacking  in  refinement  and  courtesy. 
He  was  not  an  amiable  man,  but  rough,  stormy,  exacting, 
and  dictatorial.  The  crew  under  his  command  he  looked 
upon  as  so  many  machines,  whose  duty  it  was  to  obey  him 
with  scrupulous  exactness,  whatever  might  be  the  nature 
of  his  requisitions.  When  he  got  into  one  of  his  fits  of 
passion  he  would  stamp  and  rave,  kicking  and  striking  this 
way  and  that  with  the  most  reckless  disregard  of  human 
lives  and  human  feelings.  In  fact,  he  was  one  of  those 
pests  of  the  merchant  service,  an  unfeeling  tyrant,  who 
did  all  in  his  power  to  degrade  the  profession  which  he  had 
49 


150  Captain  Brace. 

adopted,  and  add  to  the  hardships  which  lie  in  the  path  of 
the  sailor. 

The  employers  of  Captain  Brace  were  far  from  being 
Bware  of  the  extent  to  which  he  carried  the  severity  of  his 
discipline;  brutality,  indeed,  would,  be  the  more  appro- 
priate word.  They  supposed  him  to  be  a  strict  commander, 
who  liked  to  preserve  a  proper  subordination  in  those  under 
his  command,  and  this  they  were  disposed  to  commend, 
rather  than  to  complain  of,  more  especially  as  the  captain 
was  master  of  his  profession,  and  had  usually  made  quick 
and  profitable  voyages.  This,  as  may  be  supposed,  was 
enough  to  cover  a  great  many  defects  in  the  eyes  of  those 
whose  pecuniary  interest  he  subserved,  even  if  the  cap- 
lain  had  not  been  shrewd,  enough  to  conceal  his  more  dis- 
agreeable traits  when  on  shore  under  an  affectation  of  bluff 
frankness. 

Without  dwelling  further  on  the  personal  characteristics 
©f  Captain  Brace,  with  whom  we  shall  have  abundant  op- 
portunity to  become  acquainted,  since  we  purpose  going  to 
eea  with  him  on  his  approaching  voyage,  we  introduce  him 
pacing  the  deck  of  his  vessel,  with  a  short  black  pipe  in  his 
mouth,  on  the  very  morning  he  intends  to  sail. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Bandall?  Has  he  come  on  board?''  he 
inquired,  turning  to  the  second  mate. 

"No,  sir;  I  have  not  seen  him  this  morning,"  was  the 
reply. 

"When  he  comes  on  board  tell  him  I  wish  to  see  him  im- 
mediately."' 


Captain  Brace.  5i 

"Very  well,  sir." 

The  captain  went  to  his  cabin,  and  about  five  minutes 
later  the  individual  after  whom  he  inquired  came  aboard. 
We  recognize  in  him  an  old  acquaintance;  no  other  than 
the  nocturnal  visitor  who  excited  such  fearful  apprehen- 
sions in  the  mind  of  old  Peter  Manson,  the  miser. 

"Where  is  Captain  Brace,  Mr.  Bigelow?"  he  inquired 
of  the  second  mate. 

"In  the  cabin,  Mr.  Randall.     He  wishes  to  see  you." 

"And  I  wish  to  see  him,  so  we  can  suit  each  other's  con- 
venience.    How  long  since  did  he  ask   for  me?" 

"Only  two  or  three  minutes.     He  has  just  gone  below." 

"Then  lie  hasn't  had  long  to  wait." 

With  these  words,  he  hastened  to  the  cabin,  where  he 
found  the  captain  waiting  for  him. 

The  subject  on  which  the  captain  wished  to  see  his  first 
mate  was  purely  of  a  professional  and  technical  character, 
and  when  this  preliminary  matter  was  disposed  of,  Ran- 
dall, with  a  little  hesitation,  remarked :  "I  have  a  little 
favor  to  ask  of  you,  Captain  Brace." 

"Very  well,  sir;  let  me  know  what  it  is,  and  if  I  can 
conveniently  grant  it  I  will." 

"The  boy  who  had  engaged  to  go  with  us  has  backed 
out,  having  heard  some  ridiculous  stories  about  your  se- 
verity and " 

The  captain's  brow  grew  dark  with  anger,  as  he  said: 

"The  young  rascal!  I  should  like  to  overhaul  him  I 
I'd  show  him  what  it  is  to  see  service  I" 


52  Captain  Brace. 

There  is  very  little  doubt  that  the  captain  would  have 
kept  his  word. 

Eandall  took  care  not  to  inform  his  superior  officer  that 
he  had  privately  communicated  to  the  mother  of  the  boy 
intelligence  of  his  severity,  not  from  any  motives  of  hu- 
manity, but  simply  because  his  going  would  have  interfered 
with  his  own  plans  in  respect  to  Charlie. 

"We  shall  not  have  much  time  to  hunt  up  a  boy  if  we 
sail  at  three  o'clock,"  said  the  captain.  "I  don't  see  but 
vre  must  go  without  one." 

"I  think  I  can  supply  you  with  one,  Captain  Brace." 

"Ha  !  who  is  it  ?" 

"It  is  a  nephew  of  mine,  and  the  favor  I  spoke  of  was 
that  you  should  take  him  in  place  of  the  other  boy." 

"Humph !"  said  the  captain,  "there  is  one  objection  I 
have  to  taking  relations  of  the  officers.  You  are  expected 
to  be  tender  to  them,  and  not  order  them  about  as  roughly 
as  the  rest." 

"There  won't  be  any  trouble  of  that  sort  in  this  case, 
Captain  Brace,  you  may  be  very  sure,"  said  the  mate. 
"Although  the  boy  is  my  nephew,  I  don't  feel  any  very  ex- 
traordinary affection  for  him." 

"I  should  think  not,"  said  the  captain,  with  a  grim 
smile,  "from  your  efforts  to  get  him  a  place  on  board  this 
ship.     You're  not  any  more  gentle  with  boys  than  I  am." 

"The  fact  is,  Captain  Brace,"  said  Eandall,  with  a  smile 
which  evinced  a  thorough  understanding  of  the  captain's 
meaning — "the  fact  is,  the  boy  is  unruly,  and  they  can't 


Captain  Brace.  53 

do  much  for  him  at  home,  and  I  thought  it  might  be  well 
for  him  to  try  a  voyage  or  two,  for  the  benefit  of  his 
health  r 

The  mate  smiled,  and  as  it  was  such  a  joke  as  the  cap- 
tain could  appreciate,  he  smiled,  too. 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Eandall;  if  such  are  your  views,  I  have 
no  objection  to  his  coming  on  board." 

"I  had  fears,"  continued  the  mate,  "that  his  unruly  tem- 
per would  interfere  with  his  usefulness  at  home.  I  felt 
pretty  sure  we  could  soon  cure  him  of  that." 

"Kill  or  cure,,  that's  my  motto,"  said  the  captain. 

"Sometimes  both,"  thought  Eandall,  remembering  one 
boy  in  a  previous  voyage  who  had  languished  and  died 
under  the  cruel  treatment  he  experienced  on  board. 

"Does  the  boy  know  he  is  to  go  with  us?"  inquired  the 
captain. 

"Bless  you,  no;  not  he!     He'd  make  a  fuss  if  he  did.'* 

"How  do  you  intend  to  get  him  on  board,  then?" 

"I  shall  invite  him  to  come  and  see  the  vessel,  and  when 
he  is  clown  below  I  can  take  care  that  he  stays  there  till 
we  are  fairly  at  sea." 

"A  good  plan.  What  is  the  youngster's  name,  Mr.  Ean- 
dall?" 

"Jack  Eandall;  named  after  me." 

"Humph !  Hope  he'll  do  credit  to  the  name,"  said 
the  captain  grimly.     "I  leave  in  your  hands  all  the  steps 


54  Captain  Brace. 

necessary  to  securing  him.  Remember,  if  you  please,  that 
we  shall  sail  at  three." 

"I  will  be  on  board  before  that  time,  sir,  and  bring  my 
nephew  with  me." 

"Yery  well,  sir." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  BLUE  CHEST. 

On  leaving  the  Bouncing  Betsy,  Mr.  John  Randall,  the 
estimable  mate  of  that  vessel,  bent  his  steps  toward  a  shop 
devoted  to  sailors'  ready-made  clothing,  with  a  large  va- 
riety of  other  articles  such  as  seamen  are  accustomed  to 
require. 

It  was  a  shop  of  very  good  dimensions,  but  low-studded 
and  rather  dark,  the  windows,  which  were  few,  being  in 
part  covered  up  by  articles  hung  in  front  of  them. 

The  proprietor  of  this  establishment  was  Moses  Mellen, 
a  little  man,  keen-eyed,  and  always  on  the  alert  for  busi- 
ness. He  had  one  qualification  for  a  successful  trader — 
he  seldom  or  never  forgot  a  face  which  he  had  once  seen. 

Rubbing  his  hands  with  a  great  show  of  cordiality,  and 
with  his  face  wreathed  in  smiles,  the  instant  he  espied 
Randall  he  hastened  to  meet  him. 

"Delighted  to  see  you,  Mr.  Randall/'  he  exclaimed ;  "per- 
haps I  ought  to  say  Captain  Randall." 

"Not  yet." 

"Ah,  well,  that  will  come  soon.  I  hope  you  have  had  a 
prosperous   voyage." 

"Tolerably  so,  Mr.  Mellen." 
55 


56  The  Blue  Chest. 

"Have  you  just  arrived  in  the  city,  or  have  you  been 
here  for  some  time?" 

"Three  weeks  only,  and  now  I  am  off  again.  We  sailors 
don't  have  a  chance  to  stop  long  on  land,  Mr.  Mellen." 

"Not  if  they  are  such  capital  sailors  as  my  friend,  Mr. 
Eandall.    But  where  are  you  bound  this  time?" 

"Probably  to  Brazil." 

"Anywhere  else?" 

"Perhaps  so.  We  may  go  to  the  Indies,  or  Sandwich 
Islands,  before  we  return." 

"A  long  voyage — you  will  need  a  good  outfit  before  you 
start — don't  you  want  something  in  my  line?  I  sha'n't 
•want  much  profit  out  of  an  old  friend  like  you." 

"Yes,  I  shall  want  a  few  things.    I  will  pick  them  out 

BOW." 

"This  way,  then,  please." 

Eandall  followed  the  proprietor  to  the  back  of  the  store, 
■where  he  selected  a  variety  of  articles,  which  he  ordered 
sent  on  board  the  Bouncing  Betsy  at  once. 

"Now,"  said  the  mate,  after  his  own  purchases  were 
completed,  "I  shall  require  a  small  outfit  for  a  boy  who 
is  going  out  with  us." 

"If  you  had  brought  him  with  you,  we  could  have  fur- 
nished him  at  short  order." 

"There  was  one  little  difficulty  in  the  way  of  my  doing 
that." 

"Eh?" 

"He  doesn't  know  he  is  going." 


The  Blue  Chest.  57 

"Ah-ha !"  said  the  dealer,  raising  his  eyenab  signifi- 
cantly; "that's  it,  is  it?" 

"I  see  you  comprehend.  Now  tell  me  what  shall  we  do 
about  fitting  him?" 

"If  I  could  only  see  him " 

"You  could  judge  by  your  eye  what  would  be  likely  to 
fit  him.    Is  that  what  you  would  say  ?" 

"Precisely." 

"And  how  long  would  you  require  to  look  at  him?" 

"Two  minutes  would  answer." 

"Very  well;  I  will  call  with  the  boy  in  the  course  of 
an  hour  or  two.  By  the  way,  I  shall  want  a  small  chest 
to  put  the  articles  in.     You  keep  them,  of  course?" 

"A  great  variety." 

"I  dare  say  you  will  suit  me.  A  very  plain  one  will 
answer.  Have  your  bill  all  made  out  for  the  other  ar- 
ticles, and  I  will  pay  it." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Randall.  It  shall  be  done,"  and  the 
dealer  bowed  out  his  customer. 

The  mate  now  betook  himself  to  the  hotel  where  he  had 
engaged  Charlie  to  meet  him  at  eleven  o'clock.  Charlie, 
who  was  always  punctual  to  his  appointments,  had  already 
arrived,  and  was  looking  over  a  newspaper  in  the  reading- 
room. 

"So  you  are  on  hand,  my  boy,"  said  Randall,  in  a  friend* 
ly  manner. 

"Yes,  sir." 


58  The  Blue  Chest. 

"I  am  glad  to  find  you  punctual.  Are  you  ready  to 
set  out  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  quite  ready." 

To  keep  up  the  boy's  delusion  as  to  his  designs,  Ran- 
dall suffered  Charlie  to  guide  him  to  one  or  two  places 
of  public  interest,  with  which  he  was  already  more  familiar 
than  his  guide,  and  then  suddenly  proposed  that  they 
should  go  down  to  the  wharves. 

"You  must  know,  my  lad/'  said  he,  "that  I  am  a  sailor/' 

"I  thought  so,  sir." 

"What  made  you  think  so?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir;  but  I  can  generally  tell  a  sailor." 

"Perhaps  I  haven't  got  my  sea-legs  off.  However,  as 
I  was  saying,  I  am  an  officer  on  board  a  ship,  and  I  have 
just  thought  of  a  bundle  I  want  brought  from  the  vessel. 
If  you  will  go  with  me  and  fetch  it,  I  will  pay  you  at  the 
same  rate  I  promised  you  for  going  about  with  me." 

Of  course,  Charlie  had  no  objections.  In  fact,  although 
he  had  been  on  board  ships,  he  had  never  been  in  company 
with  an  officer.  Accordingly,  he  gave  a  ready  assent  to  the 
mate's  proposition,  and  together  they  took  their  way  to 
Long  Wharf,  at  which  the  ship  was  lying. 

"I  feel  more  at  home  in  this  neighborhood,"  said  Ran- 
dall. 

"Yes,"  said  Charlie,  "I  suppose  so." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  clothing-stare  kep* 
by  Moses  Mellen. 


The  Blue  Chest.  59 

"J  have  a  little  errand  here,"  said  Randall,  pausing-  at 
the  door. 

"I  can  stop  outside,''  said  Charlie. 

''You  had  better  come  in.  You  will  see  where  we  sailors 
get  our  clothing/' 

Not  suspecting  any  sinister  design  in  this  invitation, 
Charlie  accepted  it  without  more  ado,  and  followed  Ran- 
dall in.  He  looked  about  him  with  some  curiosity,  not  ob- 
serving that  he,  too,  was  an  object  of  attention  to  the  pro- 
prietor, whose  quick  eye  detected  their  entrance. 

He  went  forward  to  meet  Randall. 

"You  see  the  boy,  do  you  ?"  said  the  mate,  in  a  low  tone. 

"Is  that  the  one?" 

"Yes.    Do  you  think  you  will  be  able  to  fit  him  ?" 

"Xo  doubt  about  it,  sir,  though  he  is  a  little  smaller 
than  the  boys  we  usually  fit  out." 

"Never  mind  if  the  clothes  are  a  little  large.  He'll  be 
sure  to  grow  to  them,  and  a  precise  fit  isn't  quite  so  im- 
portant on  the  quarter-deck  as  it  might  be  on  Washington 
Street.  We  are  not  fashionable  on  board  the  Betsy,  Mr. 
Mellen." 

The  dealer  laughed. 

"Have  you  made  out  my  bill  ?" 
"Here  it  is." 

"While  I  am  looking  it  over,  will  you  pick  out  such 
clothes  as  the  boy  will  need?" 

Darting  a  hasty  glance  at  Charlie,  to  make  sure  of  hia 
size,  the  dealer  hurried  to  the  rear  of  the  shop,  and  com- 


60  The  Blue  Chest. 

menced  selecting  articles,  which  he  laid  away  in  a  small 
blue  chest. 

This  task  was  soon  completed,  and  again  he  came  out 
to  the  front  part  of  the  store. 

"All  ready !"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice  to  Eandall. 

"You  have  been  quick.  Here  is  the  amount  of  your  bill. 
As  to  the  chest,  you  may  send  it  on  board  the  Bouncing 
Betsy  without  any  unnecessary  delay." 

"It  shall  be  done,  Mr.  Randall.  Have  you  no  further 
commands  for  us?" 

"I  believe  not  to-day." 

"You  will  remember  us  when  you  are  around  again,  w  on't 
you?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  won't  forget  you." 

Eandall  issued  from  the  shop,  followed  by  Charlie. 

"Now,  my  lad,"  said  Eandall,  "we'll  go  on  board  the 
vessel.    Have  you  ever  been  on  board  a  ship  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  a  good  many  times  by  myself,  but  I  never 
had  any  one  to  tell  me  the  different  parts." 

"I'll  promise,  then,"  said  the  mate,  in  a  tone  whose  sig- 
nificance was  lost  upon  our  hero  at  the  time,  though  he 
afterward  recalled  it,  "that  you  shall  know  more  about  a 
vessel  before  you  leave  this  one." 

"I  thank  you,"  said  Charlie,  considering  the  offer  a  kind 
one. 

They  ascended  the  ladder,  and  jumped  upon  the  deck 
of  the  vessel,  which,  though  Charlie  knew  it  not,  was  to 
be  his  home  for  many  a  weary  day. 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

ON    BOARD. 

They  had  scarcely  set  their  feet  upon  deck,  when  they 
encountered   Captain   Brace. 

The  mate  glanced  significantly  at  the  boy  by  his  side, 
and  carelessly  put  his  fingers  to  his  lips  in  token  of  silence, 
at  the  same  time  saying:  "A  lad  whom  I  have  promised 
to  initiate  into  some  of  the  mysteries  of  seamanship." 

"He  may  find  the  knowledge  useful  to  him  some  time," 
said  the  captain,  with  a  grim  smile.  "Do  you  think  you 
should  like  going  to  sea,  my  lad?" 

"No,  sir,"  returned  Charles  promptly,  "I  don't  think 
I  should." 

"Why  not?" 

"I  should  get  tired  of  seeing  the  sea  all  the  time." 

"You  would  get  used  to  it." 

"I  never  should  like  it  so  well  as  the  land.  Besides,  I 
should  not  like  to  leave  my  mother." 

"Well,  my  lad,  if  you  should  ever  change  your  mind," 
said  the  captain,  with  a  wicked  glance  at  Eandall,  "I  hope 
you'll  give  me  the  first  offer  of  your  services." 

"Yes,  sir,"   said  our  hero,   thinking  the  captain  very 
affable  and  polite,  though,  to  be  sure,  his  appearance  was 
hardly  as  prepossessing  as  it  might  have  been. 
61 


6xJ  Un  Board. 

"The  captain  seems  to  be  a  very  nice  man,"  saici  ..  ,._. 
Randall,  after  that  officer  had  left  them. 

"Oli,  yes,"  answered  Randall  dryly,  "a  very  fine  mar 
the  captain  is.    I'm  glad  you  like  him." 

"Have  you  been  to  sea  a  long  time?"  inquired  Charlie. 

"Yes,  I  have  been  ever  since  I  was  a  boy." 

"Do  you  like  it?" 

"Very  much.  It  seems  like  home  to  me  now.  I 
shouldn't  be  willing  to  live  on  land  for  any  length  of 
time." 

"Did  you  begin  very  young?" 

"I  was  about  sixteen.     How  old  are  you?" 

"Almost  fourteen.     I  shall  be  fourteen  next  month." 

"You  are  a  very  good  size  for  your  age." 

"Yes,"  said  Charlie,  with  boyish  pride,  drawing  him- 
self up  to  his  full  height.  Like  most  boys,  he  liked  to  be 
told  he  was  large  of  his  age. 

"My  father  was  quite  a  large  man,"  he  added. 

"I  know  it,"  muttered  Randall  to  himself,  as  the  hand- 
some face  and  manly  form  of  the  father  rose  before  him. 
They  were  imprinted  more  vividly  upon  his  memory,  be- 
cause he  felt  that  it  was  these  very  advantages  which  had 
enabled  his  rival  to  succeed  in  winning  the  prize  for  which 
he  had  vainly  contended. 

"Did  you  speak?"  said  Charlie,  hearing  indistinctly  the 
words  which  his  companion  muttered. 

"No,"  said  Randall  shortly.     "But  I  promised  to  show 


On  Board.  63 

you  something  about  the  vessel.  I  suppose  you  know  the 
names  of  the  masts." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"What  do  they  call  this?" 

"This  is  the  mainmast,"  answered  Charlies  promptly, 
"and  the  others  are  called  the  foremast  and  mizzenmast." 

"That  is  right;  I  suppose  the  masts  seem  high  to  you." 

"Yes,  very  high,"  said  Charlie,  stretching  his  neck  to 
enable  him  to  see  the  top. 

"Then  you  don't  think  you  should  like  to  go  aloft?" 
said  Eandall,  playing  with  him  as  a  cat  plays  with  a 
mouse. 

"I  don't  believe  I  could.     It  would  make  me  dizzy." 

"You  could  do  better  than  you  think  for,  if  you  were 
obliged  to." 

"Perhaps  I  might,"  said  Charlie  doubtfully.  "Do  the 
boys  on  board  ship  have  to  go  up  there  ?" 

"I  had  to  when  I  was  a  boy." 

"Weren't  you  afraid?" 

"I  suppose  I  was,  but  that  didn't  do  any  good — I  had  to 

go-" 

"Weren't  you  afraid  of  losing  your  hold?" 
"Yes,  but  it  isn't  often  a  boy  loses  his  hold  going  up 
the  first  time.  He  is  so  frightened  that  he  clings  to  the 
ropes  with  a  pretty  tight  grip.  But  after  he  gets  used  to 
it — and  it  doesn't  seem  any  worse  than  going  up-stairs — 
he  is  apt  to  grow  careless,  and  then  there  is  sometimes  an 
accident." 


64  On  Board. 

'Then  I  suppose  they  fall  on  deck  and  are  instantly 
killed,"  said  Charlie,  shuddering. 

"Not  always,  for  when  the  ship  is  in  progress  it  leans 
a  good  deal,  so  that  they  are  more  likely  to  fall  over- 
board." 

"And  get  drowned?" 

"Sometimes.  They  can't  always  keep  up  till  assistance 
comes,  especially  if  they  can't  swim.  Sometimes  their 
fall  is  broken  by  the  rigging,  and  they  manage  to  save 
themselves  by  catching  hold." 

They  visited  other  parts  of  the  ship,  and  Eandall  con- 
tinued his  explanations.  The  sailors  were  all  on  board, 
at  work  in  various  ways.  They  did  not  appear  to  notice 
the  mate  and  his  young  companion  when  they  passed,  but 
Charlie,  chancing  to  look  behind,  observed  one  making  a 
significant  gesture  to  another,  which  evidently  referred  to 
them. 

About  this  time  a  porter  arrived  from  the  clothing-store, 
bringing  a  small  blue  chest. 

"This  is  the  ship  Bouncing  Betsy,  isn't  it  ?"  he  inquired. 

"Yes,"  answered  one  of  the  sailors. 

"I  was  told  to  bring  this  chest  here,  then." 

"Who  is  it  for?" 

"Jack  Eandall." 

"That's  the  mate,  you  lubber.  Why  don't  you  put  a 
handle  to  his  name?" 

"No,  it's  for  a  boy." 

"We  haven't  got  any  such  boy  aboard  as  I  knows  on." 


On  Board.  65 

"There  ain't  two  ships  of  this  name,  are  there?" 

"Not  as  I  ever  heerd  tell." 

"Then  this  must  he  the  ship.  Where  shall  I  stow  this 
chest?     I've  got  tired  of  bringing  it  on  my  back." 

"You'd  better  go  and  speak  to  the  mate  about  it.  There 
he  stands.    Mayhap  that's  the  boy  the  kit  belongs  to." 

The  porter  walked  forward. 

"Does  this  belong  to  you?"  he  asked,  laying  down  the 
chest. 

"Yes." 

"Then  it  wasn't  for  a  boy?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  mate  carelessly.  "It  is  for  a 
nephew  of  mine  who  is  going  with  us  this  voyage." 

"Is  that  the  young  gentleman  ?"  asked  the  porter,  point- 
ing to  Charlie. 

"He  thinks  you're  my  nephew,"  said  Randall,  smiling. 
"A  good  joke,  isn't  it  ?" 

"This  young  gentleman  is  only  looking  about  the  ship 
a  little,"  he  answered.  "He  don't  think  he  should  fancy 
going  to  sea." 

"Beg  pardon,  I  didn't  know  but  he  might  be  the  one." 

"Oh,  no,  certainly  not." 

"Shall  I  leave  the  chest  here  ?" 

"Yes,  anywhere.  Xo,  you  may  carry  it  below.  Here," 
summoning  one  of  the  sailors,  "show  this  man  where  to 
put  this  chest." 

"So  your  nephew  is  going  to  sea,"  said  Charlie,  with 
some  curiosity. 


66  On  Board. 

"Yes." 

"Does  he  think  he  shall  like  to  go?" 

"I  don't  believe  he  thinks  much  about  it." 

"How  large  a  boy  is  he?" 

"I  should  think  he  is  about  as  large  as  you.  Yes,  come 
to  think  of  it,  I  don't  believe  there  can  be  any  difference 
Between  you." 

The  joke  was  a  cruel  one,  as  Charlie  found  to  his  cost 
before  long. 

"Is  he  on  board  now?" 

"I  don't  see  him,"  said  the  mate,  looking  in  the  opposite 
direction  from  where  Charlie  was  standing.  "But  I  think 
he  will  be  on  board  very  soon.  Were  you  ever  dressed 
in  sailor's  clothes?" 

"Never,"  said  our  hero. 

"I  wonder  how  you  would  look.  You  are  just  about 
my  nephew's  size.  Have  you  any  objection  to  trying  on 
his  clothes?" 

Charlie  had  not.  In  fact,  he  was  rather  curious  to 
learn  how  he  should  look  in  this  unusual  attire.  Accord- 
ingly he  went  below,  and  was  soon  dressed  in  full  sailor- 
rig.    It  was  a  very  good  fit,  and  very  becoming. 

"A  good  fit,  is  it  not?"  asked  the  mate. 

"Excellent,"  said  Charlie. 

"One  wo\ild  almost  think  the  clothes  were  meant  for 
you,"  said  Randall,  with  a  smile  which  Charlie  did  not 
understand. 


CHAPTER  X. 

CHARLIE    IN    A    TIGHT    PLACE. 

Charlie  surveyed  himself  in  his  new  attire  with  some 
complacency.  He  felt  that  it  was  becoming,  and  it  gave 
him  a  new  feeling  of  manliness.  In  fact,  it  seemed  to  him 
for  the  time  being,  as  if  he  were  really  a  sailor.  Charlie, 
however,  though  he  was  very  well  pleased  with  his  sailor's 
rig,  did  not  feel  in  the  least  tempted  to  wear  it  profession- 
ally. Accordingly,  after  the  survey  was  over,  he  began  to 
divest  himself  of  it. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  asked  the  mate,  laying  his  hand 
heavily  upon  his  shoulder. 

"Taking  off  your  nephew's  clothes/'  returned  Charlie, 
looking  up  in  considerable  surprise  at  the  tone  in  which 
he  was  addressed. 

"What's  that  for?" 

"To  put  on  my  own." 

"Then  you  needn't  trouble  yourself,"  said  Eandall  com- 
posedly; "those  you  have  on  are  your  own." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Charlie,  meeting  the  mate's 
look  with  an  open,  manly  glance. 

"I  mean,"  said  Randall,  "that  the  clothes  were  bought 
for  the  one  who  now  wears  them." 
67 


68  Charlie  in  a  Tight  Place. 

"Bought  for  me !"  exclaimed  Charlie,  in  great  bewil- 
derment. 

"Yes.  You  wondered  how  they  happened  to  fit  you  so 
well.  That  is  easily  explained.  They  were  picked  out  on 
purpose  for  you.  The  old  Jew  in  the  clothing-store  took 
your  measure  with  his  eye  while  you  were  standing  here 
with  me.     Faith,  he's  got  a  pretty  sharp  eye." 

"But  your  nephew?"  said  Charlie,  his  heart  sinking, 
as  he  began  to  comprehend  the  plot  to  which  he  had  fallen 
a  victim;  "I  thought  you  said  they  belonged  to  him." 

"Well,"  said  Randall,  with  a  harsh  laugh,  "you're  my 
nephew." 

"I  am  not,"  said  Charlie,  with  something  of  haughti- 
ness in  his  tone,  as  he  surveyed  the  mate  scornfully. 

"He's  got  his  mother's  look,"  muttered  the  latter.  "That's 
the  way  she  looked  when  she  sent  me  about  my  business. 
She'd  look  something  different,  I  fancy,  if  she  knew  I'd 
got  her  boy  in  my  power.  I've  got  the  whiphand  of  her 
now,  and  she'll  live  yet  to  repent  the  day  she  rejected  Jack 
Randall." 

These  thoughts  flashed  through  his  mind  in  an  instant, 
and  did  not  prevent  his  answering  at  once  Charlie's  bold 
denial. 

"There's  a  little  too  much  pride  about  you,  youngster. 
It'll  need  taming  down.  You're  to  be  my  nephew  while 
you're  aboard  this  ship.  Remember,  your  name  is  Jack 
Randall.     Take  care  that  you  claim  no  other." 


Charlie  in  a  Tight  Place.  69 

"What  good  will  that  do?"  said  Charlie.  "I'm  not  going 
to  remain  on  board."' 

"You're  not,  eh?"  said  the  mate  significantly. 

"No,"  said  Charlie  boldly. 

"Suppose  I  say  you  shall." 

"Then,"  said  Charlie  firmly,  "I  say  you  are  mistaken." 
He  commenced  tugging  away  at  his  blue  jacket  with  the 
intention  of  pulling  it  off. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  asked  Randall,  with  a  frown, 
advancing  and  laying  a  heavy  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder. 
"Haven't  I  told  you  to  keep  those  clothes  on?" 

"You  have  no  right  to  interfere  with  me,"  said  Charlie, 
stoutly,  his  eye  flashing  with  indignation.  "Give  me  back 
my  clothes." 

"You  can't  have  them.  If  you  strip  off  those  you  have 
on,  you'll  have  to  go  without  any." 

Exasperated,  Charlie  made  a  spring  forward,  and  at- 
tempted to  wrest  his  clothes  from  the  hands  of  the  mate. 

"Ha,  my  fine  fellow !"  exclaimed  Randall,  a?,  evading 
the  boy's  grasp,  he  lifted  them  beyond  his  reach.  "So 
you  are  inclined  to  be  mutinous,  are  you?  Very  well,  we 
have  a  remedy  for  all  such  cases,  and  a  very  simple  one  it 
is." 

So  saying,  he  drew  a  stout  cord  from  his  pocket,  and 
advanced  toward  the  boy  with  the  intention  of  binding  him. 

Charlie  sprang  for  the  stairs,  and  was  half-way  up  be- 
fore the  mate  caught  him  and  dragged  him  hack. 

"Well,  boy,  you're  a  pretty  tough  customer — true  grit. 


70  Charlie  in  a  Tight  Place. 

You're  just  the  boy  to  make  a  sailor  of.  I  must  make 
sure  of  you." 

So  saying,  he  succeeded,  in  spite  of  Charlie's  vigorous 
exertions,  in  tying  his  hands  and  feet,  Not  until  thus 
rendered  quite  helpless  did  the  brave  boy  suffer  himself 
to  burst  into  tears. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me?"  he  asked. 

"I  am  going  to  make  a  sailor  of  you,"  answered  the  mate. 

"But  I  don't  want  to  go  to  sea,"  answered  Charlie. 

"So  you  said  once  before,  but  you'll  change  your  mind 
before  long." 

"My  mother  will  not  know  where  I  am.  She  can't  get 
along  without  me,  for  she  depends  upon  me  in  part  for 
support." 

"I  dare  say  she'll  get  along  somehow,"  said  Eandall 
coolly.  "She  won't  miss  you  much,  and  she  ought  to  feel 
glad  that  your  uncle  has  taken  charge  of  you." 

"Uncle !"  retorted  the  boy,  with  flashing  eyes.  "I 
wouldn't  own  you  as  uncle  for  all  the  money  in  Boston." 

"'You  wouldn't !"  said  Eandall,  his  tone  changing,  and 
a  dark  look  overspreading  his  face.  "Very  well,  my  bold 
lad,  you  may  have  reason  to  repent  those  words.  You  may 
find  out  by  and  by  that  it  is  as  well  to  be  civil  to  your  su- 
perior officer.  I  will  do  nothing  about  it  now,  but  when  we 
are  out  of  port  and  fairly  at  sea,  look  out !" 

Charlie,  who  was  quick-witted,  caught  a  hint  from  these 
words,  and  at  once  set  up  a  scream,  hoping  to  draw  atten- 
tion from  outside. 


Charlie  in  a  Tight  Place.  71 

"That's  your  game,  is  it  ?"  said  the  mate.  "WV41  «oon 
stop  that." 

So  saying,  he  drew  out  the  boy's  own  handkerchief,  and 
gagged  him  so  that  there  was  no  further  fear  of  his  being 
able  to  make  any  disturbance  which  could  be  heard  on  the 
wharf  or  on  neighboring  vessels. 

Feeling  now  secure,  he  left  Charlie  mute  and  helpless, 
and  ascended  to  the  deck. 

"What  was  the  noise  I  heard  below,  M r.  Randall  ?"  asked 
the  captain,  pausing  in  his  walk  and  addressing  his  first 
officer. 

"My  nephew !"'  said  Randall,  with  a  smile. 

"Ha!  he  is  a  little  obstreperous,  is  he?" 

"A  trifle  so." 

"Doesn't  like  the  society  of  his  uncle  sufficiently  to 
want  to  go  to  sea  with  him,  I  suppose?" 

"I  dare  say  he  would  like  to  change  his  quarters,'*  said 
Randall  composedly. 

"How  did  you  reconcile  him  to  his  fate?" 

"A  couple  of  strong  cords  and  a  gag  did  the  business. 
They  will  keep  him  quiet  till  we  get  out  to  sea,  and  then 
perhaps  we  can  discover  some  other  means  of  bringing  him 
to  terms." 

"A  slightly  different  application  of  the  cords,  perhaps, 
lh:  Randall." 

The  mate  smiled  approval  of  this  jest,  and  as  his  serv- 
ice:- were  now  in  requisition  to  expedite  preparations  for 
departure,  he  left  the  captain  and  went  about  his  duty. 


72  Charlie  in  a  Tight  Place. 

Meanwhile,  the  mate's  conduct  Lad  not  been  unobserved 
by  the  crew.  Among  these  was  an  old  sailor  who  rejoiced 
in  the  name  of  Bill  Sturdy.  It  is  needless  to  say  that 
this  was  not  his  real  name.  No  one  appeared  to  know 
what  his  real  name  was,  and  he  had  become  so  used  to  this 
that  he  generally  called  himself  so.  The  name  Sturdy 
had  probably  been  given  him  on  account  of  his  sturdy  make. 
He  was  stout  and  very  powerful.  Probably  there  were  no 
two  men  on  board  the  ship  who  would  not  have  felt  some 
hesitation  in  attacking  Bill  Sturdy. 

It  may  be  added  that  the  name  was  no  less  appropriate 
if  we  consider  it  bestowed  on  account  of  his  character  and 
disposition.  He  was  unpolished  enough,  having  beaten 
about  the  world  all  his  life,  yet  he  had  been  gifted  by  na- 
ture with  a  fund  of  sturdy  common  sense  and  powers  of 
observation  which  made  him  more  thoughtful  and  intelli- 
gent than  most  of  his  class.  He  had  a  kind  heart,  and 
hated  to  see  oppression.  This  was  his  first  voyage  on 
board  the  Bouncing  Betsy;  the  ship  on  which  he  had  last 
served  having  been  wrecked,  and  he  with  a  few  others  hav- 
ing, with  difficulty,  saved  themselves.  Since  he  had  en- 
gaged on  board  the  Betsy,  the  stories  he  had  heard  of  the 
captain's  brutality  led  him  to  repent  of  his  determination, 
and  he  had  resolved  within  himself  to  remain  on  board  but 
a  single  voyage. 

He  had  had  his  attention  drawn  to  Charlie  and  the  mate, 
and  he  observed  that  the  latter  came  up  alone  from  below. 

"That's  a  trim,  handsome  little  lad,"  he  said  to  himself : 


Charlie  in  a  Tight  Plact.  73 

"I  wonder  what  the  mate  is  so  attentive  to  him  for.  There's 
some  deviltry  in  the  wind,  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Bill 
Sturdy.  I  hope,  for  the  boy's  sake,  he  isn't  going  to  ship 
with  us.  If  he  does,  I  must  do  what  I  can  for  him,  for 
I  mistrust  he'll  want  a  friend." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

OFF    TO    SEA. 

The  thoughts  of  Charlie  Codman,  as  he  lay  helpless, 
gagged  and  bound,  were  hardly  of  the  most  cheerful  char- 
acter. The  blow  had  been  so  sudden  that  he  was  quite 
unprepared  for  it.  Added  to  this,  his  apprehensions  were 
vague  and  indefinite.  There  seemed  something  mysteri- 
ous about  the  manner  in  which  he  had  been  spirited  away, 
and  this  thought  increased  his  feeling  of  discomfort.  A 
danger  which  can  be  measured  and  comprehended  in  its 
full  extent  may  be  boldly  faced,  however  great,  but  when 
we  are  ignorant  of  its  nature  and  extent  that  is  not  so 
easy. 

Charlie  understood  as  much  as  this,  that  it  was  the 
intention  of  Randall  to  carry  him  off  to  sea.  But  why 
he  should  have  taken  such  pains  to  ensnare  him,  when 
there  are  always  plenty  of  boys  glad  to  obtain  such  a  situa- 
tion, he  could  not  conceive. 

Charlie  was  no  coward.  He  was  no  stranger  to  the 
bold  spirit  of  adventure  by  which  boys  of  his  age  are  apt 
to  be  animated.  Indeed,  under  different  circumstances, 
and  if  the  arrangement  had  been  of  his  own  free  choice, 
it  is  quite  possible  that  he  might  have  looked  forward  with 
74 


Off  to  Sea.  75 

pleasurable  anticipations  to  the  life  that  awaited  him.  But 
there  was  one  thought  uppermost  in  his  mind  that  gave 
him  no  little  pain  and  anxiet}r,  the  thought  of  his  mother. 
He  was  her  all.  In  the  large  and  busy  city  she  knew  very 
few  persons;  she  had  none  whom  she  could  call  friends. 
Her  hopes  were  all  centered  in  him.  It  was  in  a  great 
measure  owing  to  his  activity  and  industry  that  she  had 
been  able  to  live  with  a  degree  of  comfort,  for  though  she 
was  always  at  work,  the  avenues  of  industry  open  to  women 
are  few,  and  toil  at  the  needle  is  so  unsatisfactorily  com- 
pensated that  Charlie,  though  working  fewer  hours,  was 
able  to  contribute  considerably  more  than  half  of  the  sum 
required  for  their  joint  support. 

How  would  his  mother  get  along  during  his  absence,  the 
length  of  which  he  could  not  estimate?  Would  she  suf- 
fer not  only  in  mind  but  in  bodily  discomfort?  Well  he 
remembered  how  pleasantly  the  evenings  had  passed  when 
they  were  together.  Now  there  must  be  a  long  separation. 
Would  he  ever  see  his  mother  again?  She  would  not  be 
able  to  retain  their  present  lodging,  now  that  the  entire 
rent  would  fall  to  her  to  pay.  Perhaps  when  he  did  re- 
turn he  should  be  unable  to  obtain  any  clue  to  her  where- 
abouts. This  was,  indeed,  a  terrible  thought  to  poor 
Charlie,  who  chafed  like  a  caged  lion  in  his  confinement. 
He  endeavored  to  unloose  the  cords  which  bound  him, 
but  with  little  prospect  of  success;  for  no  one  better  than 
a  sailor  understands  the  art  of  tying  a  knot  securely. 

While   Charlie  was   doing  his  utmost  to  free  himself 


76  Off  to  Sea. 

from  the  cords  that  bound  him,  having  already  removed 
the  gag,  he  was  startled  by  a  low  laugh  of  triumphant 
malice. 

Looking  up,  he  saw  the  mate,  the  author  of  all  his  mis- 
fortunes, watching  him  with  great  apparent  enjoyment. 

"Ah,  Jack,"  he  said,  "I  see  you  are  hard  at  work.  Work 
away.  If  you  untie  those  knots,  you've  got  more  skillful 
fingers  than  the  one  that  tied  them,  that's  all." 

"Come  and  release  me,"  said  Charlie.  "You  have  no 
light  to  keep  me  here." 

"You  are  mistaken,"  said  the  mate  coolly.  "I  have  the 
best  of  all  rights." 

"And  what  right  is  that?"  demanded  our  hero. 

"The  right  of  power!"  answered  Randall.  "Might  makes 
right,  perhaps  you  have  heard." 

"How  long  are  you  going  to  keep  me  here?"  asked 
Charlie,  after  a  pause. 

"Till  we  get  far  enough  out  to  sea  to  make  it  safe  to 
release  you." 

Charlie  kept  silence.  He  felt  that  it  would  be  useless 
to  appeal  to  the  mercy  of  the  mate,  who  appeared  bent 
upon  carrying  him  away.  He  turned  his  face  resolutely 
away  from  Randall,  for  whom  he  began  to  entertain  a 
stronger  dislike  than  he  had  supposed  himself  capable  of 
feeling.  Hitherto  he  had  only  been  accustomed  to  an  at- 
mosphere of  affection,  and  though  he  had  met  with  some 
rebuffs  in  his  daily  search  for  employment,  he  could  al- 
ways return  at  night  to  a  home  and  a  mother,  with  whom 


Off  to  Sea.  7? 

he  could  forget  whatever  had  been  disagreeable  during 
the  day.  Now  his  position  was  entirely  changed.  The 
onlv  one  he  knew  on  board  the  vessel  was  one  whom  he 
had  no  reason  to  believe  friendly,  but  very  much  the  re- 
verse. 

By  this  time  the  noise  upon  deck,  which  he  could  hear 
plainly,  had  become  greater  and  greater.  He  could  hear 
frequent  orders  given  by  the  captain,  and  also  by  the 
mate,  who  had  now  returned  to  his  post. 

Soon  the  vessel  appeared  to  be  moving.  He  could  hear 
the  plashing  of  the  water  against  its  sides.  He  felt  that 
it  was  in  motion,  slow  at  first,  but  afterward  more  rapid. 
He  conjectured  that  the  ship  was  being  towed  out  to 
sea  by  a  steam-tug. 

He  wished  that  at  least  he  could  get  to  a  window,  and 
catch  a  last  glimpse  of  the  land  to  which  he  was  about 
to  bid  so  unexpected  a  farewell.  But  this,  tied  hand  and 
foot  as  he  was,  was  impossible,  and  he  felt  that  now 
it  would  do  him  no  good  even  if  he  should  succeed  in 
breaking  his  bonds.  Already  they  were  speeding  out  to 
eea  as  fast  as  the  tug  could  convey  them.  There  was  no 
redress  or  help  for  him  beyond  the  limits  of  the  vessel  in 
which  the  tyrants  exercised  absolute  control,  for  he  felt 
well  assured  that  Captain  Brace  was  in  league  with  the 
mate,  or,  at  all  events,  would  interpose  his  authority  to 
support  Randall  in  his  plans. 

So  time  sped  on,  the  ship  continuing  all  the  while  in 
steady  motion. 


78  Off  to  Sea. 

At  length  the  tug  left  them  and  returned  to  the  city, 
leaving  the  vessel  to  shift  for  itself.  Although  Charlie 
could  not  see  what  "was  going  on,  he  judged  this  from 
the  noise  and  shouts  of  command  given  above,  to  which 
he  listened  with  sharpened  attention. 

Charlie  felt  that  with  the  departure  of  the  steam-tug 
all  possibility  of  escape  had  passed.  The  last  link  which 
had  bound  him  to  the  shore  had  been  snapped  asunder. 

While  he  was  plunged  in  sorrowful  thought  he  sud- 
denly heard  a  step  descending. 

Thinking  it  was  the  mate,  of  whom  he  felt  that  he 
should  see  in  future  much  more  than  he  cared,  he  did  not 
turn  his  head. 

"Hello,  my  lad,"  was  the  salutation  of  the  newcomer,  in 
a  rough,  but  hearty  voice,  "how  came  you  in  this  trim?" 

It  was  not  the  mate's  harsh  voice.  Quickly  turning 
round,  Charlie's  eyes  rested  on  the  bronzed  but  good- 
humored  face  of  Bill  Sturdy.  Whatever  may  be  thought 
of  physiognomy  as  an  index  of  character,  it  is  undeniable 
that  we  are  either  attracted  to  or  repelled  by  certain  faces. 

ISTow,  the  first  sight  of  Bill  Sturdy's  honest  and  good- 
humored  face  seemed  to  Charlie  like  a  ray  of  light  in  a 
dark  place.    He  felt  that  he  was  a  man  to  be  trusted. 

"Will  you  be  a  friend  to  me?"  asked  Charlie,  with  in- 
stinctive confidence. 

'•That  I  will,  my  lad,"  exclaimed  Bill,  with  hearty  em- 
phasis ;  ''Imt  tell  me  who  tied  you  up  in  this  fashioa  ?" 

"His  name  is  Randall,  and  I  believe  he  is  the  mate." 


Off  to  Sea.  79 

"The  lubberly  rascal!    And  wliat  did  lie.  do  that  for?" 

"He  entrapped  me  on  board  the  vessel,  and  now  he  is 
carrying  me  out  to  sea,  against  my  will." 

"How  came  you  in  your  sailor's  rig?"     asked   Sturdy. 

Charlie  explained  the  trick  which  had  been  practiced 
Upon  him. 

"He's  a  rascal ;  there  ain't  a  doubt  of  that/'  said  Bill. 
"I  should  like  to  overhaul  him,  and  teach  him  better  man- 
ners. As  for  you,  nry  lad,  I'm  sorry  for  you.  You've 
shipped  for  the  vVge,  and  there  ain't  any  help  for  it,  as 
I  see.  But  you  may  depend  upon  one  thing,  old  Bill 
Sturdy  will  look  out  for  you,  and  will  be  your  friend." 

"Thank  you."  said  Charlie,  feeling  more  cheerful  and 
hopeful.     It  was  something  to  have  one  friend  on  board. 

"I  mistrust  there  are  some  rascals  abroad,"  muttered 
Bill  to  himself,  as  he  went  up  on  deck.  "They'd  better 
not  interfere  with  me  or  that  young  lad !"  and  he  extended 
his  muscular  arm  with  a  sense  of  power. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

LANDLORD    AND    TENANT. 

The  payment  of  a  thousand  dollars  to  Eandall  had  been 
a  severe  blow  to  old  Peter  Manson,  and  this  consideration 
materially  lessened  the  satisfaction  which  he  felt  in  Char- 
lie's removal.  The  drain  upon  his  hoard  induced  him  to 
count  over  his  possessions.  Preparatory  to  doing  so,  he 
carefully  secured  the  outer  door,  and  also  the  door  of  the 
apartment  which  he  occupied. 

Then,  lifting  up  a  plank  from  the  floor,  he  raised  from 
beneath  a  large  box  containing  coins  and  bills.  It  was  very 
heavy,  and  it  was  not  without  difficulty  that  the  old  man, 
who  was  very  feeble,  succeeded  in  lifting  it  to  a  level  with 
the  floor. 

The  old  man  surveyed  it  with  a  groan. 

"It  might  have  been  full,"  he  muttered,  "if  I  hadn't  been 
obliged  to  pay  away  such  a  sight  of  money  to  that  deter- 
mined man.  One  thousand  dollars !  How  many,  many 
weary  days  it  will  take  before  I  can  supply  their  place." 

While  Peter  was  indulging  in  this  soliloquy,  he  was  en- 
gaged in  counting  the  money  in  the  box. 

The  result  of  the  count  showed  less  than  he  had  antici- 
pated. 


Landlord  and  Tenant.  81 

The  old  man  turned  pale. 

"Some  one  has  robbed  me/'  he  muttered.  "Or,  per- 
chance, I  have  counted  wrong.    I  will  go  over  it  again.*' 

This  he  did  with  eager  haste,  and  a  feeling  of  nervous 
anxiety,  and,  to  his  no  small  dismay,  the  count  resulted  as 
before. 

"They  have  taken  my  money !"  exclaimed  Peter,  tearing 
his  white  hair  in  anguish.  "They  will  make  me  a  beggar, 
and  I  shall  be  reduced  to  want  in  my  old  age.     Oh,  oh !" 

In  the  midst  of  his  lamentations  he  suddenly  discov- 
ered the  missing  coin,  which  had  rolled  away,  without  his 
observing  it,  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  room. 

Chuckling  with  delight,  he  picked  it  up  and  replaced  it 
in  the  box. 

His  duty  satisfactorily  performed,  the  miser  put  on  his 
cloak,  and  prepared  for  another  task.  This  was  to  raise 
Mrs.  Codman's  rent,  and  so  compel  her  to  leave  the  rooms 
which  she  rented  from  him.  This,  however,  was  unneces- 
sary, since,  deprived  of  Charlie's  earnings,  his  mother  would 
have  found  it  impossible  to  pay  the  rent  previously  de- 
manded. 

Peter  Manson  resolved  to  call  upon  his  tenant  in  per- 
son. He  was  not  afraid  of  recognition.  He  felt  that  the 
changes  which  twenty  years  had  wrought  in  his  appearance 
would  be  a  sufficient  protection.  Indeed,  this  had  already 
been  tested;  for  Peter  had  already  called  several  times  on 
the  same  errand,  without  attracting  a  glance  which  could 
be  construed  into  recognition. 


82  Landlord  and  Tenant. 

It  was  the  morning  after  Charlie  had  disappeared.  He 
had  been  absent  twenty-four  hours,  and  his  mother  had 
beard  nothing  of  him.  She  was  in  a  terrible  state  of  ap- 
prehension and  anxiety,  for  few  boys  were  more  regular 
than  he  in  returning  home  as  soon  as  his  daily  duties 
were  over. 

Mrs.  Codman  had  sat  up  late  into  the  night,  hoping 
against  her  fears  that  he  would  return.  At  length,  ex- 
hausted by  her  vigils,  she  sank  upon  the  bed,  but  not  to 
deep.  In  the  morning  she  rose,  unrefreshed,  to  prepare  hov 
solitary  meal.  But  it  was  in  vain.  Sorrow  and  anxiety 
had  taken  away  her  appetite,  and  she  was  unable  to  eat 
anything. 

Soou  afterward  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  door.  She  has- 
tened to  open  it,  hoping  to  hear  some  tidings  of  her  lost 
feey.  What  was  her  disappointment  to  meet  the  bent  form 
and  wrinkled  face  of  Peter  Manson,  her  landlord. 

The  old  man  gave  her  a  stealthy  glance. 

"Why  did  I  not  know  her  before?"  he  thought.  "She 
is  not  so  very  much  changed.  But  I — ha,  ha !  she  don't 
know  who  I  am." 

Mrs.  Codman  went  to  a  drawer  in  her  bureau,  and  took 
therefrom  six  dollars. 

"This  is  the  amount  of  your  rent,  I  believe,"  she  said. 

The  old  man  greedily  closed  his  fingers  upon  the  money, 
and  then,  alter  intimating  that  it  was  very  small,  avowed 
hi;-  <3i  termination  to  raise  the  rent  to  two  dollars  per  week. 


Landlord  and  Tenant.  83 

The  miser  watched  with  gleeful  exultation  the  look  of 
dismay  which  came  over  the  face  of  his  tenant. 

Two  dollars  a  week  was  not  only  beyond  Mrs.  Codman's 
means,  but  was,  at  that  time,  an  exorbitant  rent  for  the 
rooms  which  she  occupied.  She  would  scarcely  have  been 
justified  in  paying  it  while  she  had  Charlie's  earnings  as 
well  as  her  own  to  depend  on.  Yet  there  seemed  now  an 
imperative  necessity  for  remaining  where  she  was,  for  a 
time  at  least.  It  was  possible  that  Charlie  would  come  bar-k, 
and  if  she  should  remove,  where  would  he  find  her?  Of 
course,  he  would  come  back !  The  thought  that  there  was 
even  a  possibility  of  her  son  being  lost  to  her  was  so 
full  of  shuddering  terror,  that  Mrs.  Codman  would  not 
for  a  moment  indulge  it. 

She  resolved  to  make  an  effort  to  arouse  the  old  man's 
compassion.  She  did  not  dream  of  the  spite  and  hatred 
which  he  felt  toward  her.  There  are  none  whom  the  wicke<$ 
hate  so  heartily  as  those  whom  they  have  injured.  That 
is  something  beyond  forgiveness, 

Mrs.  Codman  knew  that  Peter  Manson  was  avaricious, 
and  to  this  she  attributed  the  increase  in  the  rent.  She 
had  no  suspicion  that  he  had  a  particular  object  in  dis- 
tressing her. 

"Surely,  Mr.  Manson,"  she  remonstrated,  "you  do  not 
think  these  rooms  worth  two  dollars  a  week.  It  is  all  wa 
are  able  to  do  to  raise  the  rent  we  now  pay." 

"Humph !"  muttered  Peter,  avoiding  the  eye  of  his  ten' 
ant,  "they  are  v/orth  all  I  can  get  for  them." 


84  Landlord  and  Tenant. 

"Have  you  raised  the  rent  on  the  other  rooms  in  this 
house  ?" 

"No,  but  I— I  shall  soon." 

"Then  I  tremble  for  your  tenants.  Mr.  Manson,  if  you 
were  poor  yourself,  perhaps  you  would  have  a  heart  to  sym- 
pathize with  and  pity  the  poor." 

"If  I  were  poor !"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  betrayed  into 
his  customary  whine ;  "I  am  poor ;  indeed,  I  am  very  poor." 

"You !"  repeated  Mrs.  Codman  incredulously.  "Why, 
you  must  receive  a  thousand  dollars  a  year  from  this  build- 
ing." 

"Yet  I — I  am  poor,"  persisted  Peter.  "I  am  only  an 
agent.  I — I  do  not  own  the  building;  at  least — I  mean — 
there  are  heavy  incumbrances  on  it.  I  have  to  pay  away 
nearly  every  dollar  I  receive." 

"Can  you  let  me  remain  a  month  longer  for  the  same 
rent  as  heretofore?"  asked  Mrs.  Codman  anxiously. 

"I — I  couldn't  do  it,"  said  Peter  hastily.  "Either  you 
must  pay  two  dollars  a  week,  or  move  out." 

Mrs.  Codman  hesitated. 

She  went  to  the  bureau,  and  found  that  she  had  between 
five  and  six  dollars  remaining  in  her  purse.  This  would 
enable  her,  in  addition  to  what  she  could  earn  by  sewing, 
to  get  along  for  a  month. 

"Very  well,  sir,"  said  she.  "I  must  stay  a  month  longer, 
at  any  rate.     I  must  for  my  boy's  sake." 

"Have  you  a  son  ?"  asked  Peter,  desirous  of  learning  from 
the  mother's  lips  that  the  blow  had  struck  home. 


Landlord  and  Tenant.  85 

"Yes;  you  have  probably  seen  him  here  sometimes." 

"I  haven't  noticed  him." 

"I  am  feeling  very  anxious  about  him.  Yesterday  morn- 
ing he  went  out  on  an  errand  for  some  one  who  had  en- 
gaged him,  and  he  hasn't  been  back  since.  I  am  afraid 
something  must  have  happened  to  him/'  and  the  mother's 
eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"Perhaps  he  has  fallen  off  from  one  of  the  wharves,  and 
got  drowned,"  suggested  Peter,  with  a  savage  delight  in 
the  pain  he  was  inflicting. 

"You  don't  think  it  possible !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Codnian, 
starting  to  her  feet,  and  looking  in  the  old  man's  face, 
with  a  glance  of  agonized  entreaty,  as  if  he  could  change 
by  his  words  the  fate  of  her  son. 

"Such  things  often  happen,"  said  Peter,  chuckling  in- 
wardly at  the  success  of  his  remark;  "I  knew  a  boy — an 
Irish  boy,  about  the  size  of  yours — drowned  the  other  day." 

"About  the  size  of  my  boy !  I  thought  you  had  not 
noticed  him." 

"I — I  remember  having  seen  him  once,"  stammered  Pe- 
ter.   "He  is  about  a  dozen  years  old,  isn't  he?" 

"Yes;  but  you  don't — 3011  can't  think  him  drowned." 

"How  should  I  know  ?"  muttered  Peter.  "Boys  are  care- 
less, very  careless,  you  know  that ;  and  like  as  not  he  might 
have  been  playing  on  the  wharf,  and " 

"No,  it  can't  be,"  said  Mrs.  Codman,  with  a  feeling  of 
relief  which  her  knowledge  of  Charlie's  habits  gave  her. 


g<j  Landlord  and  Tenant. 

"Charlie  was  not  careless,  and  never  went  to  play  on  the 
wharf." 
'  The  old  man  was  disappointed  to  find  that  his  hlow  had 
failed  of  its  effect,  but  ingenious  in  devising  new  methods 
of  torture,  he  now  suggested  the  true  cause  of  Charlie's 
absence. 

"Perhaps,"  he  said,  with  his  cruel  gray  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  mother,  "perhaps  he's  been  carried  off  in  a  ship.'' 

"Carried  off  in  a  ship  \"  faltered  Mrs.  Codman. 

"Yes,"  said  Peter,  delighted  by  the  evident  dismay  with 
which  this  suggestion  was  received. 

"But,"  said  Mrs.  Codman,  not  quite  comprehending  his 
meaning,  "Charlie  never  had  any  inclination  to  go  to  sea." 

"Perhaps  they  didn't  consult  him  about  it,"  suggested 
Peter. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  exclaimed  the  mother,  with  start- 
ling emphasis,  half-advancing  toward  the  old  man. 

"You — you  shouldn't  be  so  violent,"  said  Peter,  trem- 
bling and  starting  back  in  alarm. 

''Violent !  Deprive  a  mother  of  her  only  child,  and  she 
may  well  show  some  vehemence." 

"I — I  didn't  do  it,"  said  Peter  hastily. 

"Certainly  not,"  said  Mrs.  Codman,  wondering  at  his 
thinking  it  necessary  to  exculpate  himself;  "but  you  were 
saying  something  about — about  boys  being  carried  to  sea 
against  their  will." 

"I  didn't  mean  anything/'  muttered  Peter,  regretting 
that  he  had  put  her  on  the  right  track. 


Landlord  and  Tenant.  87 

"But  you  did,  otherwise  you  would  not  have  said  it. 
For  Heaven's  sake,  tell  me  what  you  did  mean,  and  all  you 
meant.  Don't  fear  to  distress  me.  I  can  bear  anything 
except  this  utter  uncertainty." 

She  looked  up  earnestly  into  the  old  man's  face. 

Peter  was  somewhat  amused  at  the  idea  that  he  might 
be  afraid  to  distress  her,  hut  decided,  on  reflection,  to  tell 
her  all  that  he  chose  she  should  be  made  acquainted  with. 

"Sometimes,"  he  explained,  "a  captain  is  short  of  hands, 
and  fills  out  his  number  the  best  way  he  can.  Now,  per- 
haps one  of  the  ships  at  the  wharves  might  have  wanted 
a  boy,  and  the  captain  might  have  invited  your  son  an 
board,  and,  ha,  ha  !  it  almost  makes  me  laugh  to  think  of  it, 
might  have  carried  him  off  before  he  thought  where  he 
was." 

"Do  you  laugh  at  the  thought  of  such  a  cruel  misfor- 
tune?" asked  Mrs.  Codman,  startled  from  her  grief  by  the 
old  man's  chuckle. 

"I — excuse  me,  I  didn't  intend  to;  but  I  though!  he 
would  be  so  much  surprised  when  he  found  out  when-  he 
was." 

"And  does  that  seem  to  you  a  fitting  subject  for  merri- 
ment ?"  demanded  the  outraged  mother. 

The  miser  cowed  beneath  her  indignant  glance,  aad, 
mattering  something  unintelligible,  slunk  away. 

''Curse  her  !"  he  muttered,  in  his  quavering  tones,  "why 
can't  I  face  her  like  a  man?     I  never  could.     That  was 


88  Landlord  and  Tenant. 

the  way  when — when  she  rejected  me.  But  I  shall  have 
my  revenge  yet." 

Strange  to  say,  Peter's  last  suggestion  produced  an  ef- 
fect quite  different  from  that  which  he  anticipated  and  in- 
tended. Days  passed,  and  Charlie  did  not  come;  but  his 
mother  feeling  certain,  she  hardly  knew  why,  that  he  had 
been  inveigled  on  board  some  vessel,  felt  sure  he  would 
some  day  return. 

"He  will  write  to  me  as  soon  as  he  gets  a  chance," 
thought  the  mother,  "and  I  shall  soon  see  him  again," 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

CLOUDS   AND    SUNSHINE. 

Small  as  was  the  remuneration  which  Mrs.  Codman  re- 
ceived for  sewing,  she  hoped,  by  great  economy,  to  get 
along  with  the  money  which  she  already  had  on  hand.  But 
troubles  never  come  singly,  and  of  this  she  was  destined 
to  feel  the  full  significance. 

One  morning  she  made  up  a  bundle  of  completed  work, 
and  proceeded  with  it  to  the  ready-made  clothing-store  of 
Messrs.  Sharp  &  Keene,  her  employers.  It  was  a  trial  to 
one  reared  as  Mrs.  Codman  had  been  to  come  into  contact 
with  men  who  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  hide  their 
native  coarseness  from  one  who  made  shirts  for  them  at 
twenty  cents  apiece. 

On  the  present  occasion  she  was  kept  waiting  for  some 
time,  before  her  presence  appeared  to  be  noticed.  At  length; 
Sharp  nodded  to  her  from  the  desk. 

"Ahem !     Mrs.  Wiggins,"  commenced  Sharp. 

"Codman,  sir,"  corrected  the  one  addressed. 

"Well,  the  name  don't  signify,  I  suppose.  How  many 
shirts  have  you  got  there?" 

"Half  a  dozen,  sir." 

"Half  a  dozen  at  twenty  cents  apiece  make  a  dollar  and 
89 


90  Clouds  and  Sunshine. 

twenty  cents.  Present  this  card  at  the  other  desk  and 
you  will  he  paid." 

He  scratched  on  a  card  "6  shirts — $1.20/'  and  handed, 
it  to  her,  at  the  same  time  calling,  in  a  loud  voice,  "Here, 
Thomas,  pay  Mrs.  "Wigman  a  dollar  and  twenty  cents." 

"Codman,  sir." 

"It  seems  to  me  you  are  mighty  particular  about  your 
name." 

"Shall  I  have  more  work  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Codman,  with 
some  anxiety. 

"Well,  not  at  present.  Business  is  dull  just  now.  Noth- 
ing doing,  and  won't  be  for  some  time  to  come." 

"How  long  before  you  can  probably  give  me  something 
to  do?"  inquired  Mrs.  Codman  apprehensively. 

"Can't  say,"  was  the  careless  reply.  "It  may  be  a 
month,  or  six  weeks.  You  can  call  round  in  four  or  five 
weeks." 

"What  am  I  to  do  between  now  ami  then?"  thought  the 
poor  woman,  with  her  heart  sinking. 

She  must  get  something  to  do.  She  could  not  live 
otherwise,  more  especially  since  the  rise  in  the  rent,  and 
her  resources  had  been  so  largely  diminished  by  the  with- 
drawal of  Charlie's  services. 

She  applied  at  several  other  shops  which  she  passed  on 
the  way  home,  but  found,  in  every  case,  that  they  were 
already  overrun  with  applications,  and  in  the  slack  of 
business  would  be  compelled  to  discharge  some  of  thosie  at 
present  employed. 


Clouds  and  Sunshine.  91 

But  the  hour  is  darkest  thafs  just  before  day,  and  when 
fortune  has  done  its  worst,  oftentimes  the  tide  turns,  and 
affairs  improve. 

So  it  proved  with  Mrs.  Codman. 

On  Teaching  home,  not  a  little  depressed  at  the  idea 
of  remaining  inactive,  when  she  stood  so  much  in  need  of 
the  proceeds  of  her  labor,  Mrs.  Codman  had  scarcely 
removed  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  when  she  heard  a  knock 
at  her  door. 

In  answer  to  her  "Come  in,"  the  door  opened  and  the 
washerwoman,  who  roomed  just  above,  entered. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  O'Crady?"  said  Mrs.  Codman. 

"I  am  very  well,  Mrs.  Codman,  and  I  hope  it's  the  same 
wid  yerself.  Have  you  heard  anj'thing  of  the  swate  boy 
that  was  lost  ?" 

"Nothing,"  was  the  sad  reply. 

"Cheer  up,  then,  Mrs.  Codman.  He'll  be  coming  back 
bimeby,  wid  his  pockets  full  of  gold,  so  that  you  won't 
have  to  work  any  more." 

"I  am  afraid  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  work  any  more 
at  present,"  returned  Mrs.  Codman. 

"And  what  for  not  ?    Is  it  sick  that  ve  are  ?" 

Mrs.  Codman  related  the  want  of  success  which  she 
had  met  with  in  procuring  work.  She  also  mentioned 
Peter's  visit  and  the  increased  rent. 

"Just  like  him,  the  old  spalpeen !"  broke  out  Mrs. 
™<Trady  indignantly.  "Ho  wants  to  squeeze  the  last  cint 
.at  of  us  poor  folks,  and  it  don't  do  him  any  good  neither. 


92  Clouds  and  Sunshine. 

I'd  be  ashamed  if  Mr.  O'Grady  wint  about  dressed  as  he 
does.  But  maybe,  Mrs.  Codnian,  I'll  get  you  a  chance 
that'll  take  you  out  of  his  reach,  the  mane  ould  rascal !" 

"You  get  me  a  chance !  What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked 
Mrs.  Codman,  turning  with  surprise  to  her  Hibernian 
friend  and  defender. 

"I'll  tell  ye,  only  jist  sit  down,  for  it  may  take  me  some 
time." 

It  seems  that  Mrs.  O'Grady  had  been  employed,  at 
sundry  times,  in  the  house  of  a  Mr.  Bowman,  a  wealthy 
merchant  living  on  Mt.  Vernon  street.  This  gentleman 
had  lost  his  wife  some  months  before,  and  had  an  only 
child,  a  daughter,  about  ten  years  of  age.  Her  father 
did  not  like  schools,  either  public  or  private,  for  a  child 
of  her  years,  and  preferred  that  his  daughter,  for  the 
present,  should  be  educated  at  home.  Hitherto  she  had 
been  left  pretty  much  to  herself,  and  had  never  been  will- 
ing to  apply  herself  to  study. 

Mr.  Bowman  was  now  looking  for  a  suitable  governess 
for  his  daughter,  and  it  had  struck  Mrs.  O'Grady — who, 
though  ignorant  and  uncultivated  herself,  was  sharp- 
sighted  enough  to  detect  the  marks  of  education  and  re- 
finement in  another — that  Mrs.  Codman  would  suit  him. 

So  Mrs.  O'Grady,  in  her  zeal,  made  bold  to  intimate  to 
the  servants,  through  whom  it  reached  Mr.  Bowman,  that 
she  knew  a  sweet  lady  who  would  be  just  the  one  for  a 
governess  for  the  young  lady. 

Now   the   recommendation   of   an    Irish   washerwoman 


Clouds  and  Sunshine.  93 

may  not  be  considered  the  most  valuable  in  an  affair  of 
this  kind;  but  it  so  happened  that  the  suggestion  reached 
Mr.  Bowman  at  a  time  when  he  was  so  oppressed  with 
business  cares  that  he  did  not  know  how  to  spare  the  time 
necessary  to  seek  out  a  governess.  He  accordingly  sum- 
moned Mrs.  O'Grady  to  a  conference  and  asked  some 
hasty  questions  of  her,  which  she  answered  by  such 
eulogistic  account  of  Mrs.  Codman,  whose  condescending 
kindness  had  quite  won  her  heart,  that  Mr.  Bowman  de- 
sired her  to  request  Mrs.  Codman  to  call  upon  him  the 
next  day  at  a  stated  hour. 

"So  you  see,  Mrs.  Codman,"  concluded  the  warmhearted 
Irishwoman,  "that  you're  in  luck,  and  all  j^ou've  got  to 
do  is  to  call  upon  Mr.  Bowman  to-morrow,  and  you'll  get 
a  nice  home,  and  won't  have  to  work  any  more  at  your 
sewing." 

Mrs.  Codman  did  not  at  once  reply. 

"And  won't  you  go?"  asked  Mrs.  O'Grady,  wondering 
at  her  silence. 

"I  think  I  will,"  said  Mrs.  Codman,  "and  I  feel  much 
obliged  to  you,  my  good  friend,  for  saying  a  kind  word  for 
me,  though  I  do  not  feel  at  all  confident  that  I  shall 
obtain  this  place." 

"Niver  fear  for  that,"  said  the  sanguine  washerwoman; 
"he'll  see  at  once  that  you're  a  rale  lady,  and  it's  in  luck 
he'll  be  to  get  you." 

Undoubtedly,  the  position  of  a  governess  would  be  more 
remunerative,  and  less  laborious,  than  that  of  a  seamstress, 


94  Clouds  and  Sunshine. 

and,  under  present  circumstances,  Mrs.  Codman  felt  that 
she  could  not  afford  to  throw  the  chance  away.  She  re- 
tired that  night  a  little  more  cheerful  and  hopeful  than 
would  have  been  the  case  had  not  this  door  of  escape  from 
the  evil  of  want  been  shown  her. 


CHAPTER  XI Y. 

BEBTHA    BOWMAN. 

In  the  break  fast- room  of  a  house  '>n  Mt.  Vernon  Street 
sat  a  gentleman  of  perhaps  forty-five,  rather  stout,  and 
with  a  pleasant  »  q>ressi  >n  of  countenance.  He  had  fin- 
ished his  cup  of  coffee,  and  taken  up  the  morning  paper, 
which  he  scanned  carefully,  more  especially  those  parts 
relating  to  business. 

At  the  opposite  side  of  the  table  sat  a  young  lady  of 
ten,  with  mirthful  black  eyes,  and  very  red  cheeks,  which 
are  well  set  off  by  her  black  hair.  Altogether,  she  was 
very  handsome,  a  fact  of  which  she  was  not  altogether 
unconscious.  She  was  lively,  fresh,  original,  and  impul- 
sive, not  under  very  much  restraint,  but  with  an  excellent 
disposition  and  kindly  feelings,  which  did  not  allow  her  to 
gQ  very  far  wrong.  Yet  it  must  be  confessed  that  thus  far 
her  education  had  been  sadly  neglected,  so  that  she  prob- 
ably knew  less  than  most  girls  two  years  younger. 

The  room  in  which  the  father  and  daughter  were  seated 
was  tastefully  furnished  with  that  regard  to  comfort  which 
is  found  in  American  houses. 

The  two  are  Benjamin  Bowman,  a  wealthy  merchant, 
and  his  daughter  Bertha,  though,  in  that  shortening  of 
95 


96  Bertha  Bowman. 

name  which  is  apt  to  take  place  in  a  family,  hers  had  been 
shortened  to  Bert,  which  she  appeared  to  prefer  to  the 
longer  and  more  strictly  feminine  name. 

"Papa,"  she  said,  pushing  away  her  plate,  "you  ain't 
good  company  at  all." 

"Thank  you  for  the  compliment,  Bert,"  he  said. 

"But  you're  not,  though.  There  you  are  wearing  out 
your  eyes  over  that  stupid  paper,  and  leaving  me  to  talk 
to  myself  or  Topsy.     Here,  Topsy,  isn't  it  so?" 

At  this  summons  a  kitten,  black  as  the  ace  of  spades, 
and  very  much  addicted  to  fun  and  frolic,  jumped  into 
the  lap  of  her  young  mistress,  and  purred  a  noisy  acquies- 
cence. 

''There,"  said  Bert  triumphantly,  "Topsy  says  I  am 
right.    I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  without  Topsy." 

"She  makes  a  very  suitable  companion  for  you,  Bert," 
paid  Mr.  Bowman,  smiling. 

"Why?"  asked  the  cat's  mistress   suspiciously. 

"Because  you  can  sympathize  so  well.  Both  are  equally 
mischievous,  and  it  is  very  difficult  to  tell  which  knows 
the  most  of  books." 

"Now  you  are  laughing  at  me,  papa.     I  know  you  are." 

"Not  entirely,  Bert.  The  fact  is,  you  are  terribly  ignor- 
ant for  one  of  your  age." 

"I  suppose  I  am,"  said  Bert,  shaking  her  head  in  comic 
despair. 

"You'll  grow  up  with  no  more  knowledge  than  a  Hot- 
tentot." 


Bertha  Bowman.  97 

"Don't  they  have  any  schools  among  the  Hottentots?" 

"I  suppose  not." 

"How  delightful  that  must  be !  Why  can't  we  move 
out  where  they  live?" 

"I  don't  know  but  we  shall  have  to,"  said  her  father, 
"as,  hereabouts,  young  ladies  are  expected  to  know  some- 
thing about  books.  But  that  reminds  me  I  don't  know 
but  I  shall  succeed  in  engaging  a  governess  for  you  to- 
day." 

"A  governess  to-day !"  exclaimed  Bert  in  dismay. 

"Yes.  I  have  made  an  appointment  with  a  lady  to  call 
here  at  nine  o'clock,  and,  if  I  am  satisfied  with  her,  I 
intend  to  engage  her." 

"And  if  I  am  satisfied  with  her,"  added  Bert. 

"Is  that  essential  ?"  asked  her  father,  smiling. 

"Yes,  for  you  know  she  will  be  with  me  most  of  the 
time.  If  she  is  like  Julia  Campbell's  governess,  I  sha'n't 
like  her." 

"Well,  and  what  fault  do  you  find  with  Julia  Camp- 
bell's governess?"  asked  Mr.  Bowman,  with  more  interest 
than  his  tone  conveyed;  for  he  knew  that  if  Bert  did  not 
fancy  her  governess  she  would  be  a  most  incorrigible  little 
rebel,  and  would  be  likely  to  profit  very  little  by  her  in- 
structions. 

"Oh,  she's  as  disagreeable  as  she  can  be.  In  the  first 
place,  she's  an  old  maid — not  that  that's  so  very  bad.  In 
fact,  I've  about  made  up  my  mind  to  be  an  old  maid  my- 
eelf." 


&g  Bertha  Bowman. 

"Indeed !"  said  Mr.  Bowman,  amused.  "May  I  inquire 
your  reasons?" 

''Too  numerous  to  mention." 

"Perhaps  one  is,  that  you  don't  expect  to  have  any 
chance  to  change  your  name." 

"I've  had  a  chance  already/'  said  Bert,  in  a  matter-of- 
fact  Ume. 

'•Had  a  chance  already  I"  exclaimed  her  father,  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"Ye?,"  said  the  young  lady  of  ten,  "Charlie  Morrill 
offered  himself  the  other  day,  and  I  refused  him." 

"What  is  the  world  coming  to?"  thought  Mr.  Bowman. 
"Why  did  you  refuse  him?" 

"Because,"  said  Bert  soberly,  "I  don't  like  the  way  he 
parts  his  hair.  But  as  for  Julia's  governess,  I  know  she 
never  had  an  offer.  She's  as  homely  as — as — well,  I  don't 
know  who.  Then  she  wears  glasses,  and  has  a  nose  ever 
so  long,  and  a  long  face,  and  she  never  smiles,  and  she 
makes  Julia  study  terrible  hard." 

And  Bert  drew  a  long  breath. 

"Xot  a  very  charming  picture,  certainly,"  said  Mr. 
Bowmuu;:  "but  I'll  promise  you  that,  if  the  lady  wha 
applies  for  the  post  of  governess  to-day  should  be  any- 
thing like  this,  I  won't  engage  her." 

"That's  right,  papa.     When  do  you  expect  her?" 

"Let  me  see.  She  was  to  he  here  at  nine,  and  now  it 
wants  only  ten  minutes    d   that   '  'inc." 


Bertha  Bowman.  99 

"And  you  won't  send  me  out  of  the  room,  papa,  will 
you  ?" 

Mr.  Bowman  hesitated. 

"You  know  I  am  very  anxious  to  see  how  she  looks. 
If  I  like  her,  I  will  make  a  sign  to  you,  and  then  you  can 
engage  her." 

"What  sign  will  you  make,  Bert?"  asked  her  father, 
amused,  and  yet  alive  to  the  necessity  of  securing  his 
daughter's  acquiescence  in  his  choice. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Bert,  reflecting ;  "suppose  I  wink  ?" 

"And  suppose  the  lady  should  see  you  winking  at  me? 
What  do  you  suppose  she  would  think?" 

"Oh,  I  could  tell  her  afterward,  you  know,  and  she 
would  feel  flattered,  knowing  it  was  a  sign  I  liked  her. 

"She  might  not  think  it  very  ladylike  in  you." 

"What's  the  use  of  being  ladylike  ?  I  don't  want  to  be. 
There's  Florence  Gates;  I  suppose  she's  ladylike.  I'll 
show  you  how  she  walks." 

Bert  imitated  the  gait  of  the  young  lady,  swaying  her- 
self from  side  to  side,  as  she  walked  with  mincing  step, 
tossing  her  head,  and  exhibiting  a  caricature  of  the  airs 
and  affectations  which  girls  sometimes  delight  to  display. 

"Why,  she  wouldn't  run  for  a  thousand  dollars,"  ex- 
claimed Bert.  "She  would  think  it  beneath  her  dignity. 
If  she  is  ladylike,  I  don't  want  to  be.  But,  hark !  there 
goes  the  bell.  She's  coming.  Xow,  papa,  just  remem- 
ber, I  shall  wink  if  I  like  her,  and  if  I  don't  I'll  make  up 
a  face." 


100  Bertha  Bowman. 

Bert  transferred  herself  to  an  ottoman,  and  took  Topsy 
into  her  lap. 

Both  she  and  her  father  looked  toward  the  door  with 
curiosity. 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

MRS.   CODMAK'S   GOOD  FORTUNE. 

Mrs.  Codman  had  been  carefully  educated  and  was  versed 
in  all  the  accomplishments  which  are  considered  indispen- 
sable in  a  young  lady's  education.  It  was  with  no  degree 
of  hesitation  on  this  point,  therefore,  that  she  set  out  this 
particular  morning  to  present  herself  as  an  applicant  for 
the  post  of  governess.  Having  no  influential  friends,  how- 
ever, and  not  being  able  to  present  references  from  a  for- 
mer employer — this  being  her  first  essay  in  this  line — she 
feared  that  her  application  would  be  unsuccessful.  She 
could  not  but  feel  a  considerable  degree  of  anxiety,  for  her 
circumstances  had  become  desperate,  owing  to  the  refusal 
of  her  former  employers  to  give  her  any  more  sewing. 

She  dressed  herself  as  neatly  as  her  limited  wardrobe 
would  permit,  and  with  hearty  good  wishes  and  many  glow- 
ing predictions  of  success  from  her  humble  friend,  Mrs. 
O'Grady,  she  set  out. 

Though  some  years  past  thirty,  Mrs.  Codman  so  far  re- 
tained the  freshness  of  youth  that  she  would  hardly  have 
been  taken  for  this  age.  As  a  girl  she  had  been  very  beau- 
tiful, and  her  womanhood  did  not  belie  her  early  promise. 
101 


102  Mrs.  Codman's  Good  Fortune. 

Her  attire,  though  not  expensive,  was  in  good  taste  and 
characterized  by  a  ladylike  simplicity. 

Such  was  the  applicant  for  the  post  of  governess,  upon 
whom  the  curious  eyes  of  Bert  and  her  father  fell  as  she 
was  ushered  into  the  breakfast-room  by  the  servant,  who 
had  received  orders  to  do  so.  She  entered  the  room  with 
the  easy  grace  of  a  lady.  Mr.  Bowman  at  once  recognized 
her  claim  to  be  considered  such  by  deferentially  rising  and 
inviting  her  to  be  seated. 

"If  I  mistake  not,"  he  said  politely,  "you  are  the  lady 
who  has  been  recommended  to  me  as  possessing  excellent 
qualifications  for  the  office  of  governess." 

"Perhaps  the  recommendation  was  too  strong  and  de- 
cided," said  Mrs.  Codman  modestly.  "I  shall  be  glad, 
however,  to  be  considered  an  applicant  for  the  position." 

Here  Mr.  Bowman,  who  chanced  to  glance  at  Bert,  de- 
tected her  executing  a  surprising  succession  of  winks,  in- 
dicating the  favorable  impression  which  had  been  made 
upon  her  by  the  appearance  of  Mrs.  Codman. 

Already  prepossessed  in  favor  of  the  applicant,  this  was 
an  additional  inducement  to  engage  her,  as  her  success 
would  depend,  to  a  very  great  extent,  upon  the  young  lady's 
good-will. 

"I  suppose,"  he  said,  "you  feel  prepared  to  teach  the  ac- 
complishments usually  included  in  the  education  of  a 
y©ung  lady?" 

Mrt*.  Codman  bowed. 

"1  ain't  a  young  lady."  interrupted  Bert,  at  this  point, 


Mrs.  Codman's  Good  Fortune.  103 

who  thought  she  was  in  imminent  danger  of  becomiag  too 
learned. 

"We  hope  you  will  he  some  time/'  said  Mr.  Bowman. 

In  reply,  Bert  winked  once  more. 

There  was  a  piano  in  the  room. 

"Will  you  favor  us  with  a  specimen  of  your  playing?" 
asked  Mr.  Bowman. 

Mrs.  Codman  sat  down  at  the  piano  and  played  two 
pieces,  one  slow  in  movement,  the  other  rapid,  showing  a 
nice  touch  and  easy  execution. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Bowman.  "I  am  inclined  to 
think  that  I  shall  be  glad  to  avail  myself  of  your  services. 
Should  you  be  willing  to  engage  for  three  months  at  first, 
to  see  how  we  are  mutually  pleased  with  each  other?  The 
pupil  I  have  to  offer  you  is  a  little  addicted  to  mischief,  and 
I  don't  know  how  you  may  like  her." 

"I  am  quite  willing  to  enter  into  such  an  arrangement /' 
said  Mrs.  Codman;  "and  in  reference  to  the  last  point, 
I  am  quite  sure  I  shall  like  my  pupil.  I  begin  to  like  her 
already." 

"Do  you?"  said  Bert,  with  much  satisfaction,  rising 
from  the  ottoman,  and  unceremoniously  dropping  the  black 
kitten,  who  turned  a  somerset  and  ran  off  shaking  her 
head. 

In  answer,  Mrs.  Codman  held  out  hot  hand  with  a  smile. 

Bert  hurried  across  the  room,  and  placed  her  own  in 
it  confidingly. 


104  Mrs.  Codman's  Good  Fortune. 

"I  am  glad  you  do,"  said  she.  "You  won't  make  me 
study  my  eyes  out,  will  you?" 

"That  would,  indeed,  be  a  pity,"  said  Mrs.  Codman,  look- 
ing at  Bert's  bright  eyes,  sparkling  with  fun  and  mischief. 

Mr.  Bowman  observed  these  signs  of  agreement  between 
Bert  and  her  new  governess  with  pleasure,  and  hastened 
to  say :  "In  regard  to  business  arrangements  we  will  speak 
by  and  by.  I  think  I  can  promise  that  they  will  be  satis- 
factory to  you." 

It  may  be  mentioned  here  that  Mr.  Bowman,  who  was 
by  no  means  disposed  to  deal  parsimoniously  with  those 
in  his  employ,  fixed  Mrs.  Codman's  salary  at  six  hundred 
dollars  a  year,  which  was  four  times  as  much  as  she  had 
ever  been  able  to  gain  by  her  needle. 

"When  may  we  expect  you?"  he  asked.  "You  have, 
doubtless,  some  preliminary  arrangements  to  make,  for 
which  you  will  please  take  whatever  time  you  may  require. 
Meanwhile,  accept  this  sum  in  advance." 

He  drew  from  his  pocketbook  a  fifty-dollar  note,  which 
he  handed  to  Mrs.  Codman.  She  could  not  feel  any  em- 
barrassment in  accepting  a  sum  so  tendered,  and,  bowing 
her  thanks,  intimated  that  she  would  make  her  appearance 
on  the  following  Monday,  it  being  then  Thursday. 

The  advance  payment  proved  very  acceptable  to  Mrs. 
Codman,  as  with  it  she  was  enabled  to  replenish  her  ward- 
robe, a  step  rendered  necessary  by  her  residence  in  Mr. 
Bowman's  family.  She  was  busily  engaged  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  week  in  supplying  its  deficiencies. 


Mrs.  Codman's  Good  Foftutu  105 

No  one  could  be  more  overjoyed  than  was  the  numble 
washerwoman  at  the  success  of  her  friend,  of  which  she 
felt  sure  from  the  first,  knowing  Mrs.  Codman  to  be  a 
"rale"  lady.  The  latter,  feeling  that  she  owed  her  present 
good  fortune  mainly  to  the  zealous  recommendation  of  her 
friendly  neighbor,  purchased  a  neat  dress,  which  Mrs. 
O'Grady  was  prevailed  upon  to  accept,  on  being  convinced 
she  would  not  thereby  be  distressing  herself,  a  fact  of  which 
she  was  assured  on  being  told  of  Mr,  Bowman's  liberality. 

Yet  there  was  one  thought  which  contributed  to  dimin- 
ish the  joy  which  Mrs.  Codman  would  otherwise  have  felt 
at  being  restored,  in  a  measure,  to  the  mode  of  life  to 
which  she  had  been  accustomed,  and  relieved  from  the  ne- 
cessity of  unremitting  labor  in  order  to  sustain  life.  This 
was  the  thought  of  Charlie,  her  own  brave,  handsome  boy, 
who  had  been  the  joy  and  life  of  her  little  household,  now 
gone — she  knew  not  whither. 

She  was  sustained,  however,  by  a  strong  confidence  that 
he  was  yet  living,  and  had  little  doubt  that  the  suggestion 
of  Peter  Manson  was  correct,  that  he  had  been  carried  off 
by  the  captain  of  some  vessel  short  of  hands.  Of  course, 
she  did  not  for  an  instant  harbor  the  suspicion  that  Peter 
himself  had  had  anything  to  do  with  his  disappearance,  be- 
ing quite  unaware  that  any  motive  existed  powerful  enough 
to  tempt  the  old  man  to  such  a  crime. 

"I  shall  hear  from  him !  I  shall  see  him  again,"  she 
thought,  with  earnest  conviction.    "He  is  under  the  eye  of 


106  Mrs.  Codman's  Good  Fortune. 

Providence,  wherever  he  may  be,  and  no  harm  shall  befall 
him." 

Still,  even  with  this  strong  feeling  of  trust,  there  was 
an  uncertainty  about  the  time  when  her  wishes  couid  be 
realized,  which  could  not  fail  to  weigh  upon  the  mother's 
heart.  Then  there  was  the  constant  longing  for  his  bright 
and  enlivening  presence,  greater,  because  he  was  her  only 
child,  and  she  was  a  widow. 

The  furniture  which  Mrs.  Codman  had  in  her  rooms  she 
was  enabled  to  dispose  of  without  a  very  great  sacrifice. 
She  reserved  a  few  articles,  endeared  to  her  by  association, 
which  she  stored  in  the  room  of  her  friendly  neighbor. 

With  her,  also,  she  left  a  sum  of  money  sufficient  to  pay 
for  her  month's  rent,  which  would  not  be  due  for  a  fort- 
night after  her  removal  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Bowman.  Pe- 
ter Manson  was  not  a  litle  surprised  and  disappointed  when, 
on  visiting  his  tenant — prepared  to  witness  her  distress  and 
hear  entreaties  for  a  reduction  of  her  rent — to  find  her  al- 
ready gone,  and  to  hear  that  she  had  obtained  an  advanta- 
geous situation,  though  where  he  was  unable  to  ascertain, 
as  Mrs.  O'Grady,  with  whom  he  was  no  favorite,  was  not 
disposed  to  be  communicative. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

CHARLIE    CODMAN'S    SEA-LIFE. 

When  the  Bouncing  Betsy  was  fairly  out  to  sea,  Captain 
Brace,  anticipating  with  the  malicious  delight  which  a 
petty  tyrant  feels  in  the  sufferings  of  those  subject  to  him, 
the  grief  and  terror  of  his  cabin-boy,  ordered  Charlie  to  be 
released  from  his  bonds  and  brought  before  him.  This  or- 
der the  mate  chose  to  execute  in  person. 

The  pressure  of  the  cords,  with  which  the  boy  had  been 
bound,  had  chafed  bis  limbs,  and  the  constraint  of  his  posi- 
tion had  made  them  ache. 

As  the  mate  busied  himself  in  unbinding  him,  Charlie 
inquired,  with  a  glimmering  of  hope: 

"Are  you  going  to  let  me  go?" 

"Where?"  asked  Randall. 

"On  shore." 

"Perhaps  you  don't  know  that,  by  this  time,  we  are  at 
least  forty  miles  from  Boston." 

"Could  you  send  me  back?"  asked  Charlie,  his  heart 
sinking  within  him. 

"I  suppose  we  might  turn  the  ship  about,  and  go  back 
for  your  accommodation,"  said  the  mate,  with  a  sneer; 
*'but  I  don't  think  Captain  Brace  would  consent." 
107 


108  Charlie  Codman's  Sea-Life. 

"Is  there  no  way?"  implored  Charlie.  "Couldn't  you 
put  me  on  board  some  ship  going  back?" 

"You  can  speak  to  the  captain  about  that.  He  has  sent 
for  you.    Come  along,  and  don't  be  all  day  about  it." 

Charlie  stretched  himself  with  the  intent  of  gaining  some 
relief  from  the  confinement  he  had  suffered,  and  prepared 
to  do  what  he  knew  there  was  no  means  of  evading.  Then 
he  followed  Eandall  to  the  presence  of  Captain  Brace. 

"Well,  Jack,"  said  Captain  Brace,  showing  his  teeth  in 
an  unpleasant  manner,  "how  do  you  like  life  on  ship- 
board?" 

"My  name  is  not  Jack,"  was  the  boy's  reply. 
"Indeed !     Perhaps  you  will  do  me  the  favor  to  tell  me 
what  it  is." 

"My  name  is  Charlie  Codman." 

"So  you  pretend  to  be  wiser  than  your  uncle,"  said  Cap- 
tain Brace,  looking  toward  the  mate. 

"He  is  not  my  uncle/'  said  Charlie  boldly.  If  he  had 
felt  it  to  be  prudent,  he  would  have  added  that  he  had 
no  desire  for  a  relationship  to  Eandall,  but  he  knew  that 
it  would  not  be  wise. 

"Do  you  dare  to  contradict  my  first  officer?"  demanded 
the  captain,  with  a  frown. 

"I  am  only  telling  the  truth,"  said  Charlie  undauntedly. 
"Silencer   roared   the   captain,   in      passion.     "If  he 
chooses  to  call  you  his  nephew,  you  shall  be  so;  do  you 
hear  that?    I  say  do  you  hear  that?"  he  repeated,  pound- 
ing with  his  clenched  fist  upon  the  table  before  him. 


Charlie  Codman's  Sea-Life.  109 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Take  care  that  you  remember  it  then.  Your  name, 
henceforth,  is  Jack  Eandall — at  any  rate,  as  long  as  you 
remain  aboard  this  ship." 

"How  long  am  I  to  remain  on  board,  sir  ?"  Charlie  could 
not  help  asking. 

"How  long?"  repeated  the  captain.  "Forever,  if  I 
choose.  And  now  as  this  is  the  last  conversation  which  I 
intend  to  hold  with  you  on  this  point,  you  will  bear  in 
mind  that  you  are  shipped  on  board  this  vessel  as  a  boy, 
and  that,  if  you  don't  do  your  duty,  you'll  get  all  that's 
coming  to  you." 

This  was  rather  a  hard  trial  for  Charlie,  accustomed  to 
a  mother's  gentle  and  affectionate  words.  Had  he  been 
less  manly,  he  would  have  burst  into  tears;  but  he  only 
turned  pale  a  little,  and  bit  his  lips. 

"Take  him  on  deck,  Mr.  Randall,  and  set  him  to  work," 
said  the  captain;  "and  mind,  Jack,  that  I  don't  hear  any 
complaints  of  you." 

Charlie  followed  the  mate  to  the  deck.  He  had  made 
up  his  mind  that  he  must  stay  in  the  ship  during  the 
voyage,  or,  at  all  events,  until  they  reached  land  some- 
where, and  resolved  that,  since  it  was  forced  upon  him,  he 
would  do  his  duty  as  well  as  he  could,  and  so  afford  as 
little  advantage  as  possible  to  those  who  seemed  de- 
termined to  persecute  him. 

He  was  set  to  work  by  Eandall,  who  told  him,  in  a 


110  Charlie  Codman's  Sea- Life. 

tone,  to  "mind  his  eye,  and  keep  to  work,  it  he 
knew  what  was  best  for  himself." 

The  work  was  not  difficult,  but  Charlie's  fingers  were 
unpracticed,  and  he  might  very  soon  have  incurred  the 
wrath  of  the  captain  and  mate  if  Bill  Sturdy  had  not  ap- 
proached him,  the  mate  being  temporarily  out  of  earshot, 
and  given  him  a  little  instruction. 

'Well,  my  lad,  what  news?"  inquired  Bill.  "Shipped 
for  the  voyage,  are  you?" 

"That's  what  the  captain  and  mate  say,"  returned 
Charlie. 

'They're  a  pair  of  precious  rascals,"  said  Bill,  lower- 
ing his  voice,  "and  it's  my  opinion  they're  well  matched, 
so  far  as  villainy  goes." 

"What  m'ade  you  ship  on  board  the  vessel?"  inquired 
Charlie. 

"Bless  your  soul,  boy,  I  wouldn't  'a'  done  it  if  I'd 
known  who  was  in  command ;  leastways,  if  I  had  known 
a  little  more  about  him.  But  I  didn't  ask  any  questions. 
T  had  just  got  in  from  a  v'y'ge  to  Calcutta,  and  happened 
to  see  one  of  my  old  shipmates,  Jim  Davis,  walking  on  the 
wharf.  'Bill,'  says  he,  'why  won't  you  ship  along  of  meP 
I  asked  him  where  he  was  bound,  and  lie  telled  me  to  Val- 
paraiso, on  board  the  Bouncing  Betsy. 

"Well,  I've  been  most  everywhere  else,  but  I  had  never 
been  there,  and  reckoned  I  should  like  to  see  it.  Besides, 
I  got  tired  of  going  to  Calcutta.  I've  been  there,  man 
and  boy,  six  or  eight  times.     It's  too  hot  to  live  there 


Charlie  Codman's  Sea-Life.  ill 

some  parts  of  the  year.  So  I  just  told  him  I  was  in  i'or 
it  if  he  was,  provided  there  was  a  vacancy.  I  asked  him 
if  he  knew  anything  about  the  officers.  He  said  he  didn't, 
but  he  guessed  they  would  pass.  So  I  just  stepped  into 
the  office  and  shipped.  There,  lad,  that's  the  whole  story. 
I  don't  mind  it  much  myself.  They  don't  generally 
meddle  much  with  me." 

"Have  you  sailed  with  bad  captains  before?"  inquired 
our   hero. 

"Yes,  my  lad,  sometimes.  One  captain  I  sailed  with — 
I  was  a  young  man  then — was  Captain  Maguire.  He  was 
a  sort  of  an  Irishman,  I  surmise,  and  mighty  fond  of 
drink.  He  was  pleasant  enough  when  he  was  sober,  but 
that  wasn't  often.  When  lie  was  drunk,  he  got  into  a 
regular  fury.  He  would  tear  around  the  deck  like  as  if 
he  was  crazy,  and  so  he  was  after  a  fashion,  for  he  didn't 
seem  to  know,  after  he  had  got  out  of  his  fits,  what  he 
had  done  when  he  was  in  "em.  One  day,  I  remember,  as 
I  was  at  work,  he  came  up  to  me,  and  gave  me  a  terrible 
thwack  side  of  the  head,  swearing  like  a  trooper  all  the 
time/' 

"What  did  you  do?"  asked  Charlie,  looking  up  with 
ic         .   into  the  weatherbeaten  face  of  the  old  sailor. 

■    '      oi,"  said  Sturdy ;  "you  see  I'm  pretty 
glancii  g  at   his  brawny  arms  and  Herculean  frame  with 
pardonable   complacency.     "I   don't  often  meet   a   man   I 
can'1   manage  as  easily  as  the  mate  can  manage  you.     ISTow 
the  captain  wasn't  a  large  man,  by  ai\y  means,  nor  very 


112  Charlie  Codman's  Sea-Life. 

strong,  either.  As  to  the  mates,  one  of  them  was  sick  in 
his  berth,  and  the  other  was  in  another  part  of  the  ship; 
so  I  just  took  the  captain  up  in  my  arms,  and  carried  him 
down  to  the  cabin,  kickin'  and  cursin',  as  might  be  ex- 
pected, and  laid  him  down  there.  The  officers  didn't  see 
what  was  goin'  on,  or  there'd  have  been  trouble.  As  for 
the  crew,  they  enjoyed  it  all,  and  wouldn't  a  man  of  'em 
tell;  and  as  the  captain  didn't  remember  anything  about 
it  the  next  day,  I  didn't  get  punished." 

"Did  you  ever  get  punished?"  asked  Charlie. 

"Never  since  I  grew  up,  and  had  these  to  fight  my 
way  with,"  said  Bill  Sturdy,  showing  his  fists,  which 
looked  as  if  a  blow  from  either  of  them  would  have  killed 
an  ox.  "No,  my  lad,  these  are  what  I  call  my  sledge- 
hammers, and  I'd  as  soon  have  them  to  rely  upon  as  a 
pair  of  pistols." 

At  this  point  in  the  conversation  Bill  was  called  off  to 
some  other  part  of  the  vessel,  and  the  mate  coming  up 
discovered,  somewhat  to  his  disappointment,  that  Charlie 
had  discharged  his  task  in  a  manner  which  did  not  admit 
of  censure. 


CHAPTEE  XVII. 

THE   RIVAL   CHAMPIONS. 

It  is  customary  to  divide  a  ship's  crew  into  two  watches, 
whose  duty  it  is  to  alternate  in  keeping  a  lookout  at  night. 
The  first  night-watch  commences  at  eight  o'clock  and  con- 
tinues till  midnight.  This  watch  is  then  relieved  by  the 
second,  who  have  had  an  opportunity  of  sleeping  in  the 
meantime,  and  who  remain  on  duty  till  four  a.  m.  They 
then  give  place  to  the  first,  who  are  again  on  duty  till 
eight  in  the  morning.  Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  a  part 
of  the  crew  have  eight  hours  to  sleep,  while  the  remainder 
have  but  four.  This  inequality,  however,  is  remedied  the 
next  evening,  when  the  hours  are  changed. 

Charlie  was  fortunate  in  one  respect.  He  was  placed 
in  the  same  watch  with  Bill  Sturdy,  who  had  established 
himself,  in  some  sort,  as  the  boy's  protector,  and  did  not 
scruple  to  avow  it.  When  some  of  the  crew  began  to  tease 
and  play  rough  practical  jokes  upon  Charlie — a  mode  of 
treatment  to  which  boys  are  frequently  subjected  on  board 
ship — Bill  Sturdy  interfered,  and  in  a  sonorous  voice  ex- 
claimed : 

"Look  here,  shipmates,  don't  lay  a  finger  on  this  boy  P 
113 


314  The  Rival  Champions. 

'"'And  why  not?"  inquired  a  burly  sailor,  with  naturally 
repulsive  features. 

"Because  I  say  so/'  retorted  Bill  Sturdy. 

''Who  is  he,  I  should  like  to  know,  that  we  are  to  keep 
our  distance?" 

•'Til  tell  you  who  he  is,  shipmates/"  was  the  answer. 
"He's  a  hoy  that  the  mate  has  entrapped  on  board  without 
his  own  consent." 

"Isn't  he  the  mate's  nephew?" 

"No  more  than  I  am-  though  the  mate  chooses  to  call 
him  so.  He's  got  a  mother  living  in  Boston,  and  he's  her 
only  hoy.  She  doesn't  know  what  has  become  of  him. 
Now,  shipmates,  he  seems  to  b  •  a  fine  lad,  and  I'm  going 
to  stand  by  him  for  his  sake  and  his  mother's." 

Sailors  are  generous  when  you  reach  their  hearts,  and 
there  was  a  murmur  of  approbation  when  Bill  concluded. 

But  there  is  no  rule  without  an  exception,  and  that  ex- 
ception was  Antonio,  the  scowling  sailor  who  has  already 
been  mentioned.  Few  knew  much  about  him.  This  was 
his  second  voyage  on  board  the  Bouncing  Betsy.  Next  to 
Bill  Sturdy,  he  was  the  stoutest  and  most  athletic  sailor 
on  board  the  ship.  During  the  previous  voyage  he  had 
been  the  bully  of  the  crew,  taking  advantage  of  his  phys- 
ical strength.  Xow  they  were  released  from  his  tyranny. 
In  Bill  Sturdy  he  had  more  than  found  his  match.  No 
one.  comparing  the  two  men,  could  doubt  that  in  a  con- 
odds  would  be  decidedly  in  favor  of  Bill. 
Antonio,  who  was  a  Spaniard  by  birth,  could  not  help 


The  Rival  Champions,  115 

seeing  the  changed  state  of  affairs.  Now,  no  one  likes 
to  be  eclipsed,  and  to  see  the  authority  passing  from  his 
hands,  into  those  of  another.  Certainly  Antonio  did  not 
behold  this  transfer  with  indifference.  He  could  not 
brook  holding  the  second  place,  where  the  first  had  been 
his.  But  how  could  he  help  it?  Very  evidently  the  opin- 
ions of  the  crew  favored  Bill  Sturdy;  not  only  because 
they  believed  him  to  excel  Antonio  in  physical  qualities, 
which  hold  a  high  value  in  the  eyes  of  a  sailor,  but  be- 
cause he  had,  as  yet,  shown  no  disposition  to  abuse  his 
power. 

Antonio  was  resolved  not  to  yield  without  a  struggle, 
and  therefore  determined  to  take  the  first  occasion  to  pick 
a  quarrel  with  his  rival,  as  this  would  give  him  an  appor- 
tunity  to  measure  his  strength  with  him.  Antonio  did 
not  see,  what  was  evident  to  others,  that  his  rival  was 
undeniably  his  superior  in  prowess.  People  are  generally 
6low  to  admit  their  own  inferiority.  That  is  only  natural. 
He  hoped,  therefore,  that  he  should  be  able  to  reestablish 
his  supremacy  by  coming  off  a  conqueror  in  the  contest 
which  he  had  determined  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  bring 
about. 

Antonio's  attention  had  not  been  especially  called  to 
Charlie,  until  he  heard  Bill  Sturdy  avow  his  determina- 
tion to  take  him  under  his  protection.  Then,  in  a  spirit 
of  perverseness,  and  because  he  thought  it  would  open  the 
way  for  the  trial  of  strength  which  he  courted,  he  resolved 
to  oppose  him,  and  openly  espouse  the  other  side. 


116  The  Rival  Champions. 

Accordingly,  when  the  murmurs  of  applause,  which  had 
been  elicited  by  his  rival's  frank  and  generous  appeal  to 
the  sympathies  of  the  crew,  had  subsided,  Antonio  looked 
round  on  the  rough  faces  which  surrounded  him,  and 


"Well,  shipmates,  are  you  going  to  submit  to  what  this 
fellow  says?  He  dares  you  to  touch  this  sniveling  milk- 
sop of  a  boy." 

Some  of  the  faces  grew  dark  and  threatening  at  this 
representation.  Nothing  stirs  up  a  sailor's  heart  to  op- 
position so  readily  as  anything  which  resembles  a  threat. 

Bill  Sturdy  hastened  to  reply. 

"He  is  wrong.  I  don't  threaten  any  of  you.  I  only 
ask  if  it  is  right  to  play  tricks,  and  abuse  a  boy  who  has 
already  been  treated  so  scurvily  by  the  mate.  I  don't  be- 
lieve there's  any  one  of  you  that  wants  to  curry  favor  with 
Mr.  .Randall  and  the  captain.  Now  there  is  nothing  they 
will  like  better  than  to  see  j'ou  kicking  round  this  lad." 

Neither  the  captain  nor  the  mate  stood  very  high  in  the 
good  graces  of  the  crew,  and  the  effect  produced  by  this 
statement  showed  that  it  was  adroitly  conceived. 

Bill  Sturdy  took  advantage  of  this  to  add,  "Now,  lads, 
when  I  say  I  am  going  to  stand  by  this  boy,  and  see  that 
he  isn't  abused,  I  know  you'll  stand  by  me." 

This  frank  and  bold  speech  produced  a  decided  reaction 
in  favor  of  Charlie. 

There  was  another  murmur  of  approbation,  which  was 


The  Rival  Champions.  117 

interrupted  by  a  stamp  upon  the  deck  by  Antonio,  who, 
with  a  ferocious  contortion  of  countenance  shouted: 

"If  you're  all  going  to  follow  this  man's  lead,  and  do 
like  dogs  whatever  he  bids  you,  you'll  find  there's  one  here 
that  dares  to  be  independent." 

Saying  this,  he  advanced  suddenly  to  Charlie,  who  was 
at  work  near-by,  and,  seizing  him  by  the  shoulder,  was 
about  to  proceed  to  some  act  of  violence. 

As  soon  as  Bill  Sturdy  perceived  his  design,  he  sprang 
forward  and  gave  him  a  powerful  blow  which  would  have 
felled  him  to  the  deck,  had  not  Bill  slipped  a  little  as  he 
delivered  it. 

Instantly  the  Spaniard's  sallow  face  was  suffused,  and, 
with  a  torrent  of  oaths  and  a  howl  of  fury,  he  precipitated 
himself  upon  Sturdy. 

But  it  was  easier  to  catch  a  weasel  asleep,  than  to  take 
the  stout  sailor  unprepared. 

With  his  feet  firmly  planted  upon  the  deck,  and  his  fists 
in  a  proper  position,  he  received  the  bully,  parrying  his 
blows  with  wonderful  dexterity,  and  succeeding  in  plant- 
ing others  no  less  effective. 

A  ring  of  sailors  gathered  around,  eager  to  watch  the 
progress  and  termination  of  the  affray.  There  were  not  a 
few  among  them  who  enjoyed  the  punishment  which  they 
foresaw  the  Spaniard  would  receive  from  his  antagonist. 
He  had  so  tyrannized  over  them  in  the  past  that  they  felt 
little  sympathy  for  him  now. 

Baffled,  blinded,  and  howling  with   mingled  rage  and 


118  The  Rival  Champions. 

vexation,  the  Spaniard  continued  the  unequal  fight.  As 
for  Bill  Sturdy,  he  was  cool  and  collected,  apparently 
neither  angry  nor  excited,  but  wary  and  on  the  alert. 

At  length  Antonio,  perceiving  a  marlin-spike  at  a  lit- 
tle distance,  sprang  toward  it.  It  was  a  critical  moment 
for  Bill  Sturdy,  for  a  marlin-spike,  in  the  hands  of  a 
furious  and  determined  man,  is  a  formidable  weapon. 

His  movement  did  not  escape  the  notice  of  Sturdy,  who 
had  acted  principally  on  the  defensive  thus  far,  but  he 
now  saw  that  something  decisive  must  be  done. 

Springing  forward,  he  closed  with  his  assailant,  lifted 
him  from  the  deck,  and,  carrying  him  to  the  companion- 
way,  hurled  him  down-stairs. 

Then,  turning  to  the  crew,  he  exclaimed: 

"Shipmates,  I  call  you  to  witness  that  this  quarrel  was 
forced  upon  me.     Have  I  done  right  or  wrong?" 

"Right !"  exclaimed  all,  in  concert. 

At  this  moment  the  mate,  attracted  by  the  noise  came 
on  deck. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


ANTOKIO  S  RESOLVE. 


"What  has  been  going  on?"  asked  Randall,  perceiving, 
from  the  position  of  the  sailors  and  their  looks,  that  some- 
thing had  happened.  What  it  was  he  surmised,  having 
heard  something  of  the  noise  of  the  conflict. 

No  one  of  the  sailors  spoke,  but  all  looked  at  each  other 
in  hesitating  silence. 

"What  was  it?  Are  you  all  deaf?"  demanded  the  mate 
impatiently. 

"A  little  fight,  that  is  all,  Mr.  Randall,"  answered  Bill 
Sturdy,  coolly  hitching  up  his  pants. 

"And  you  were  one  of  the  parties?" 

"I  believe  I  was." 

"And  who  was  the  other?" 

"Antonio." 

"And  where  is  he  now?" 

"He  has  gone  below,"  said  Bill  in  a  significant  tons. 

"What  was  the  fight  about?"  inquired  Randall,  who 
in  ordinary  cases,  would  not  have  cared  to  pursue  the  sub- 
ject further,  but  had  an  undefined  idea  that  it  was  in  Borne 
way  connected  with  the  boy,  for  whom  he  felt  no  peculiar 
afeetion. 

119 


120  Antonio's  Resolve. 

"The  fact  is,"  said  Bill  Sturdy,  "Antonio  undertook 
to  abuse  that  lad  there,"  pointing  to  Charlie ;  "and  I  ain't 
one  to  stand  by  and  see  a  boy  abused.  Besides,"  he  added, 
with  a  latent  humor  which  all  understood,  though  he  did 
not- allow  it  to  alter  the  gravity  of  his  countenance,  "I 
knew  he  was  your  nephew,  and  that  made  me  the  more 
anxious  to  defend  him." 

Eandall  was  placed  in  an  awkward  predicament.  He 
could  not  deny  that  Charlie  was  his  nephew  after  his  ex- 
press declaration  to  that  effect,  while  at  the  same  time  the 
relationship  which  he  claimed  was  far  from  exciting,  in 
his  own  mind,  any  attachment  for  the  boy.  Still  it  closed 
his  mouth  for  the  time.  He  only  muttered,  in  an  under- 
tone, that  the  boy  must  fight  his  own  battles,  and  disap- 
peared from  the  deck. 

'Fight  his  own  battles!"  repeated  Sturdy  indignantly. 
"A  pretty  sort  of  an  uncle  he  is,  to  match  a  boy  of  four- 
teen against  a  grown  man,  and  a  strong  one,  at  that. 
However,"  added  Sturdy  complacently,  "the  lad's  got  a 
friend  that  is  a  match  for  Antonio  at  any  time." 

"That  he  has,"  answered  a  comrade;  "but  I  say,  Bill, 
I  couldn't  help  laughing  to  see  how  you  made  that  old 
shark  shut  up  his  mouth  by  telling  him  it  was  his  nephew 
you  were  fighting  for.  It  made  him  mad,  but  he  didn't 
know  what  to  say  against  it." 

"His  nephew !  No,  Jack,  it's  well  the  lad  isn't  any 
kith  or  kin  of  his.  A  drop  of  his  blood  would  be  enough 
+~  spile  a  decent  lad." 


Antonio's  Resolve.  1.31 

"Aye,  that  it  would." 

Presently  Antonio  came  on  deck  with  a  sullen  air,  half 
defiance,  half  of  humiliation,  at  his  recent  defeat.  He 
smarted  under  the  conviction,  that  henceforth  his  author- 
ity among  the  crew  would  be  small.  Hitherto  he  had  been 
the  champion  and  bully  of  the  quarter-deck,  and  although 
the  crew  had  no  liking  for  him,  but  rather  a  decided  feel- 
ing of  an  opposite  nature,  yet  strength  and  prowess  always 
command  a  certain  rude  respect  among  sailors,  and  that 
respect  he  enjoyed.  But  now  all  was  changed.  He  had 
been  beaten,  and  that  in  a  fair  fight,  where  all  could  see 
that  no  underhand  means  had  been  employed.  Strength 
had  been  matched  against  strength,  and  he  had  come  of! 
second  best.  That  had  been  a  Waterloo  day  to  him,  and 
he  knew  that  he  returned  to  the  deck  no  longer  the  same 
man  so  far  as  consideration  went. 

Bill  Sturdy  was  a  generous  antagonist.  He  had  no 
idea  of  indulging  in  exultation  over  his  vanquished  foe, 
but  treated  him  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

But  Antonio's  resentment  was  deep  and  implacable. 
He  thirsted  for  revenge,  and  determined  to  lull  to  sleep 
the  suspicions  of  his  late  opponent,  until  some  opportunity 
should  present  itself  for  an  effectual  and  safe  revenge. 

According  he  suddenly  recovered  from  his  sullennessP 
and  made  some  half-advances  toward  Sturdy,  which  the 
latter  met,  but  not  without  reserve. 

"I  can't  kind  o'  feel  as  if  the  feller  was  to  be  trusted," 
said  Bill  to  Charlie  one  evening  as  they  were  alone  to- 


122  Antonio's  Resolve. 

gether.  "There's  something  in  Lis  eye  that  I  don't  like; 
a  sort  of  deceitful  gleam,  as  if  there  was  something  cov- 
ered up  that  he  didn't  like  to  show.  For  my  part,  I  like 
to  he  fair  and  ahoveboard,  and  show  just  what  I  am. 

"I'm  sorry  you  have  made  an  enemy  of  the  man  on  my 
account,"  said  Charlie. 

"Avast,  my  lad,  do  you  think  I  was  going  to  stand  still 
and  let  him  abuse  }7ou?  Thank  Heaven,  old  Bill  Sturdy, 
isn't  such  a  lubber  as  that." 

"But  he  may  do  you  an  injury  yet,  Bill." 

"Let  him  come  within  the  reach  of  my  arm/'  said  Bill, 
swinging  his  brawny  right  arm  as  he  would  a  fiail,  "I 
guess  he  wouldn't  want  to  try  it  again." 

"But  he  may  take  you  at  advantage." 

"He  will  have  to  get  up  early  in  the  morning,  then," 
said  Sturdy,  in  a  tone  of  confidence.  "No  lubberly  for- 
eigner is  likely  to  get  ahead  of  Bill  Sturdy,  I  can  tell 
you  that,  my  lad." 

Both  Bill  and  Charlie  supposed  that  they  were  alone, 
and  that  this  conversation  was  unheard  by  any  other  per- 
son, but  in  this  they  were  mistaken. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  mast  crouched  the  dark  figure 
of  a  man,  who  seemed  to  be  listening  intently  to  the  con- 
versation between  the  two.  He  remained  very  quiet,  fear- 
ing, doubtless,  that  he  should  be  observed.  Evidently 
what  he  heard  did  not  affect  him  pleasantly.  His  brow 
contracted,  and  a  scowl  of  hatred  made  his  features  look 


Antonio's  Resolve.  123 

even  more  dark  and  forbidding  than  was  their  wont,  es- 
pecial!}' when  Bill  Sturdy  made  use  of  the  last  expression, 
his  face  exhibited  a  concentrated  malice  which  could  only 
have  been  generated  in  a  heart  full  of  evil  passions. 

He  ground  his  white  teeth  together  and  muttered  to 
himself,  as  he  crept  cautiously  from  his  place  of  conceal- 
ment, and  made  his  way  to  his  hunk  in  the  forecastle. 

"We  shall  see,  we  shall  see.  No  man  shall  insult  and 
triumph  over  me  without  repenting  of  it.  He  shall  know, 
some  time,  what  it  is  to  excite  the  vengeance  of  a  desper- 
ate man.  He  thinks  the  lion  has  become  a  lamb.  He  will 
find  out  his  mistake." 

Unconscious  of  the  concealed  listener  to  their  discourse, 
Bill  Sturdy  and  Charlie  continued  their  conversation.  In 
the  hour  of  darkness,  when  night  broods  upon  the  ocean, 
and  no  sound  is  to  be  heard  save  the  dashing  of  the  waves 
against  the  sides  of  the  vessel,  the  sailor  who  is  obliged 
to  stand  his  watch  would  find  the  hours  pass  wearily  if  it 
were  not  for  some  method  of  killing  the  time.  Among 
these  is  the  spinning  of  yarns,  for  which  sailors  are  so 
noted.  This  it  was  that  occurred  to  Bill,  as  he  stood  with 
Charlie  leaning  over  the  side. 

"I  say,  my  lad,  suppose  we  spin  a  yarn  apiece,  and  that 
will  make  the  time  pass  quicker." 

"But  I  am  not  an  old  sailor,  Bill ;  I  don't  know  any- 
thing about  spinning  yarns." 

"Tush,  lad,  I  don't  expect  a  salt-water  yarn  from  you. 
I  want  a  land  yarn.    I  am  sure  you  have  read  a  good  many, 


124  Antonio's  Resolve. 

and  can  think  of  one  now.  Just  lead  off,  and  when  you 
get  through  I'll  try  my  hand  at  it." 

Thus  adjured,  Charlie  said:  "Let  me  think  a  min- 
ute." 

Bill  leaned  over  the  rail  in  silent  expectation. 


CHAPTEE  XIX. 

Charlie's  land  yarn-. 

Charlie  deliberated  a  moment,  when  he  chanced  to  think 
of  Nicholas  Nickleby,  the  only  one  of  Dickens'  works  he 
had  ever  read,  and  which,  as  it  had  interested  him  exceed- 
ingly, had  impressed  itself  upon  his  remembrance. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  Nicholas  Nickleby,  Bill?"  he  in- 
quired. 

"Yes,"  was  Bill's  unexpected  response;  "when  I  was  at 
Liverpool  three  years  ago,  she  was  lying  alongside  our 
ship." 

"She !"  exclaimed  Charlie,  in  amazement. 

"Yes,"  answered  Sturdy,  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone;  "she 
was  a  very  good  craft,  and  was  in  the  West  India  trade. 
I  saw  considerable  of  her,  being  as  how  I  got  acquainted 
with  Tom  Seagrove,  one  of  the  men  on  board." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  see  what  you  mean,"  said  Charlie;  "but  I 
don't  mean  a  ship,  I  mean  a  story  of  the  same  name." 

"No,  I  never  heard  of  it.  Named  after  the  ship,  like 
enough." 

Charlie  thought  it  more  probable  that  the  vessel  was 
named  after  the  story,  but  as  this  was  a  point  of  little  im- 
portance to  the  present  occasion,  he  passed  it  by,  and  con- 
125 


126  Charlie's  Land  Yarn 

tinued:  "Well,  Bill,  it's  a  very  interesting  story,  and  as 
I  remember  that  about  as  well  as  anything  I  ever  read,  I 
believe  I  will  tell  you  a  part  of  it." 

"Heave  ahead,  my  lad.'"' 

"You  must  know  that  this  Nicholas  Nickleby  was  a 
young  man  whose  father  died  when  he  was  about  nine- 
teen, leaving  him  very  little  money,  but  a  mother  and  sis- 
ters to  provide  for.  He  had  an  old  uncle,  Ralph,  who  was 
very  rich,  but  an  old  rascal,  who  didn't  trouble  himself 
about  his  poor  relations." 

"That's  the  way  with  3  good  many  rich  people,"  said 
Bill.  "They  leave  the  smaller  craft  to  shift  for  them- 
selves." 

"However,  on  being  applied  to  he  did  manage  to  get  the 
sister  a  place  in  a  millinery  establishment,  and,  as  for 
Nicholas,  he  got  him  a  place  as  assistant  teacher  in  a  coun- 
try boarding-school." 

"He  was  a  sort  of  first  mate  in  the  school,  wasn't  he?" 

"Well,  something  like  that,  only  he  didn't  fare  half  so 
well  as  a  mate  or  any  kind  of  an  officer.  All  the  old  fel- 
low gave  him  for  his  services  was  about  twenty-five  dollars 
a  year  and  board/' 

"What  made  him  ship  on  board  the  craft,  then?" 

"It  was  the  only  chance  he  had,  so  he  thought  he'd  take 
it  till  he  could  find  a  better." 

'What  was  the  captain's  name,"  asked  Bill,  who  stuck 
to  his  marine  phraseology. 

"His  name  was  Squeers,  and  a  tough  old  fellow  he  was. 


Charlie's  Land  Yarn.  127 

He  bad  some  thirty  or  forty  boarding-scholars,  whom  he 
treated  shamefully.  In  the  first  place,  he  didn't  allow 
them  enough  to  rat." 

"Why  didn't  they  mutiny,  and  pitch  the  lubber  over- 
board?" exclaimed  Bill  indignantly. 

"Because  be  had  starved  the  spirit  out  of  them.  Ik- 
sides,  they  were  mostly  small,  and  he  had  a  wife  as  bad 
as  himself,  as  well  as  a  daughter  who  was " 

"A  chip  of  the  old  bloc] 

''Exactly.  Do  you  want  to  know  how  he  took  away  their 
appetites  so  that  they  wouldn't  eat  so  much?  He  used  to 
make  them  swallow  a  spoonful  of  boiling  hot  molasses, 
which  scalded  their  throats,  and  made  it  bard  for  them  to 
swallow." 

"I'd  like  to  have  overhauled  him,"  said  Sturdy. 

"If  you  bad,  I  don't  believe  there'd  have  been  much  left 
of  him,  for  be  was  a  spindling  sort  of  a  man,  tall  and  thin." 

"And  bow  did  the  young  fellow  like  bis  place?" 

"Not  very  much.  He  found  they  were  going  to  half- 
starve  him,  too.  However,  he  wouldn't  have  minded  that 
so  much  as  seeing  the  poor  children  abused.  While  all 
this  was  going  on,  the  school-master's  daughter  fell  in  love 
with  him." 

"Was  she  pretty?" 

"No,"  said  Charlie.  "She  was  the  image  of  her  father, 
and  he  wasn't  anything  of  a  beauty.  She  was  thin,  with 
a  hatchet  face  and  yellow  hair.  However,  she  continued 
to  make  herself  think  that  Nicholas  was  in  love  with  her, 


128  Charlie's  Land  Yarn. 

and  one  day,  when  her  father  and  mother  wtae  gone  ti> 
London  to  get  a  new  scholar,  she  posted  off  to  a  female 
friend  of  hers,  and  told  her  that  she  had  got  a  heau,  and 
invited  her  friend  and  her  beau  to  come  to  tea.  When  tea- 
time  came,  there  they  all  were  in  the  sitting-room,  drinking 
tea,  and  faring  a  great  deal  better  than  Nicholas  had  before 
since  he  had  been  at  the  school,  when  the  other  young  lady 
and  her  beau  began  to  poke  fun  at  Nicholas,  all  on  account 
of  Matilda  Squeers,  whom  they  supposed  him  to  be  in  love 
with.     He  didn't  understand  it  at  all,  and  told  them  so. 

"  'Why/  said  John  Brodie — that  was  the  other  girl's 
beau — 'ain't  you  courtin'  Tilda,  h^re  ?'  Nicholas  protested 
that  he  never  so  much  as  thought  of  the  thing.  At  this, 
Matilda  turned  all  sorts  of  colors,  for  she  had  confidently 
told  both  of  them  that  he  was  in  love  with  her,  and,  be- 
sides, she  had  no  idea  that  a  poor,  underpaid  teacher  would 
think  of  refusing  her,  the ,T 

"Captain's  daughter,"  suggested  Bill  Sturdy. 

"Exactly  so.  So  you  see  the  tea-party  didn't  end  quite 
so  pleasantly  as  it  began,  and  from  that  moment  Nicholas 
had  a  bitter  enemy  in  the  daughter  of  his  employer/' 

"That's  the  way  with  female  craft,"  said  Bill.  "What 
happened  next?" 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Squeers  came  home,  bringing  the  new 
boy  with  them.  The  first  thing  they  did  was  to  give  a 
whipping  all  round,  to  make  up  for  the  time  they'd  been 
awav." 


Charlie's  Land  Yarn.  129 

"I  wish  I'd  been  there/'  said  Bill,  swinging  his  brawny 
arms. 

"Among  the  scholars  was  one,  worse  treated  than  the 
rest,  named  Smike.  He  had  been  with  them  ever  since 
he  was  a  boy  of  six  or  eight,  and  his  friends  had  deserted 
him.  Mr.  Somers  would  have  cast  him  off,  only  he  found 
his  work  more  than  paid  for  the  scanty  food  he  ate,  so  he 
kept  him;  but  he  was  so  beaten  and  cuffed,  and  made  to 
drudge  so  constantly,  that  it  would  have  been  better  for  him 
if  he  had  been  turned  away.  At  last  he  determined  to  run 
away." 

"Good  for  him !"  said  Bill. 

"As  soon  as  Mr.  Squeers  found  he  was  gone,  he  went 
after  him  post-haste,  and,  as  the  boy  was  weak  and  couldn't 
travel  very  fast,  he  soon  overtook  him,  and  brought  him 
hack,  bound  hand  and  foot,  in  the  chaise.  He  suspected 
that  Nicholas  had  helped  Smike  to  escape,  so  he  determined 
to  inflict  a  cruel  punishment  upon  him  in  the  presence  of 
his  assistant.  Accordingly,  he  armed  himself  with  a  large 
whip,  and,  calling  all  the  school  together,  he  told  Smike 
to  strip,  and  was  just  about  to  lay  the  whip  on  his  naked 
back  when  Nicholas  shouted  out,  'Stop !'  Squeers  glared 
round,  and  said,  in  a  fierce  voice,  'Who  said  that?'  'I  said 
it,'  said  Nicholas;  'I  tell  you,  stop!'  Squeers  turned  white 
with  rage,  and  threatened  to  whip  Nicholas,  also.  He  was 
about  to  commence  the  punishment,  when  Nicholas  sprang 
from  his  seat,  and,  pulling  the  whip  from  his  hand,  knocked 
Squeers  over,  and  began  to  belabor  him  with  his  own  whip." 


180  Charlie's  Land  Yarn. 

"Good  !"  exclaimed  Bill,  who  had  become  much  interested 
in  the  narrative.    "I  hope  he  made  him  scream  for  mere}'." 

"So  he  did,  and  Nicholas  kept  on  belaboring  him,  not- 
withstanding Mrs.  Squeers  and  her  daughter  went  at  him 
tooth  and  nail,  and  tried  to  pull  him  off.  But  he  was  so 
excited  with  anger  that  he  felt  strong  enough  to  cope  with 
half  a  dozen,  and  never  left  off  till  Squeers  was  black  and 
blue  and  aching  all  over." 

"Hurrah  for  Nicholas!"  shouted  Bill  Sturdy,  in  great 
delight  at  the  schoolmaster's  discomfiture.  "What  hap- 
pened next?" 

"Nicholas  packed  up  his  alothes  and  left  the  house,  but 
took  care  to  carry  Smike  ^rith  him,  knowing  that  he  would 
otherwise  fare  badly." 

"And  what  became  of  Nicholas  afterward?  Did  he  reach 
port  ?" 

"He  met  with  a  variety  of  adventures,  but  at  length  be- 
came rich  and  happy." 

"That's  a  pretty  good  yarn,"  said  Bill  Sturdy.  "I  should 
have  liked  to  help  him  whip  the  schoolmaster,  though/' 

"Now,  Bill,  I  am  ready  to  hear  your  yarn,"  said  Charlie, 


CHAPTER  XX. 

BILL  STURDY'' S  STORY. 

After  pausing  a  moment  to  collect  his  ideas,  Bill  Sturdy 
commenced  his  story. 

"It  was,  mayhap,  twelve  years  ago,  or  it  might  have 
been  thirteen,  since  I  sailed  from  New  York  in  the  ship 
Peregrine,  bound  for  Havana,"  said  Sturdy.  "The  Pere- 
grine was  quite  a  sizable  ship,  and  I  expected  a  pleasant 
voyage,  as  the  captain  was  a  frank,  good-humored-looking 
man.  So  he  was  when  he  was  in  his  sober  senses ;  but,  un- 
fortunately, this  wasn't  always  the  case.  However,  lie  used 
to  keep  pretty  straight  when  he  was  at  home,  for  if  he  had 
shown  himself  out  it  might  have  been  hard  for  him  to  get 
employment.  If  Jack  gets  drunk  it's  no  serious  damage 
to  the  ship,  but  if  the  chief  officer,  to  whom  all  look  for 
commands,  allows  himself  to  drink  too  much,  especially 
when  a  storm  threatens,  it's  a  pretty  bad  matter.  You  see, 
my  lad,  that  when  a  captain  is  drunk,  he  doesn't  generally 
know  it  himself,  and  is  apt  to  think  that  he  is  perfectly 
able  to  manage  the  ship. 

"Well,  Captain  Harvey,  for  that  was  his  name,  was  an 
excellent  seaman,  when  he  was  sober.  He  was  a  thorough 
sailor,  and  knew  every  rope  in  the  ship.  But,  as  it  hap- 
131 


132  Bill  Sturdy 's  Story. 

pened,  it  would  have  been  better  if  we  had  had  a  captain 
who  knew  less  and  kept  sober. 

"Captain  Harvey  kept  pretty  straight  at  first,  as  I  was 
saying,  and  we  men  began  to  like  him.  He  was  a  pleasant- 
spoken  man,  though  he  meant  to  be  obeyed  when  he  gave 
an  order.  I  liked  him  all  the  better,  because  the  captain 
I  had  gone  with  last  was  a  different  kind  of  man.  It 
wasn't  always  a  word  and  a  blow  with  Captain  Lafarge, 
but  oftentimes  the  blow  came  first.  Well,  times  seemed 
changed,  and  that  was  what  I  was  saying  to  a  messmate  of 
mine,  who  had  sailed  with  me  under  the  other  captain, 
when  Captain  Harvey  came  on  deck.  That  was  the  third 
day  out ;  his  face  looked  unusually  red,  and  his  eyes  blood- 
shot. He  staggered  up  to  us,  gave  me  a  blow  side  of  the 
head  as  he  said,  or,  rather,  hiccuped,  for  he  couldn't  speak 
very  plain:  'Wh — what  are  you — hie — doing  there,  you 
rascal ?' 

"Now,  my  lad,  I'm  not  one  to  stand  a  blow  very  patient- 
ly; I'm  rather  apt  to  resent  it,  and  so  I  should  this  time, 
but  as  I  looked  up  I  saw  how  matters  stood,  and  that  took 
away  my  anger.  I  liked  Captain  Harvey,  and  I  knew  that 
when  he  was  right  he  would  never  think  of  giving  me  a 
blow  without  any  cause,  so  I  didn't  do  anything,  but  an- 
swered, as  respectful  as  I  could: 

"  'I  hope  I  am  doing  my  duty,  Captain  Harvey.' 

"  'You  lie,'  he  stuttered  again. 

"I  did  not  feel  called  upon  to  give  any  answer  to  this 


Bill  Sturdy 's  Story.  133 

charge.  It  was  as  well  that  I  didn't,  for  he  waited  a  min- 
ute and  then  left  me. 

"Well,  this  was  the  first  that  any  of  us  knew  of  the  cap- 
tain's habits.  We  were  all  sorry,  even  those  that  liked  to 
drink  themselves,  for  this  was  the  only  fault  we  could  de- 
tect in  our  chief  officer,  and  it  was  a  pretty  serious  one,  a8 
it  turned  out.  I  told  you,  didn't  I,  that  we  were  bound 
for  Havana?" 

"Yes,"  said  Charlie. 

"Well,  it  sometimes  happens  that  there  are  violent  storms 
in  those  latitudes,  and  the  coast  is  dangerous  to  approach. 
Time  passed,  and  although  Captain  Harvey  would  have  his 
blow-out  now  and  then,  yet  there  had  been  no  particular 
damage  so  far,  perhaps  because  we  had  had  pretty  quiet 
weather.  Now,  however,  we  had  got  into  the  region  of 
gales,  and  we  all  hoped  the  captain  would  keep  sober.  But 
that  wasn't  to  be. 

"One  morning,  I  remember,  we  had  a  powerful  gale. 
The  ship  was  behaving  pretty  well  under  it.  She  was  a 
stanch  craft,  when  we  started,  and  bade  fair  to  see  a  great 
many  years'  service.  So,  on  the  whole,  we  didn't  feel  un- 
easy till  the  captain  came  on  deck.  We  saw  at  once  that 
he  was  drunk,  a  good  deal  drunk,  and  not  fit  to  take  care 
of  the  ship.  He  staggered  up  to  the  mate,  and  asked  him 
how  fast  the  ship  was  going. 

"The  mate  reported,  ten  knots  an  hour. 

"  'Ten  knots  an  hour  V  repeated  the  captain  contemptu- 
ously.    'Is  that  all?    WTe  must  go  faster.' 


134  Bill  Sturdy 's  Story. 

"  'But,  Captain  Harvey,'  said  the  mate,  'there  is  a  vio- 
lent gale.    Do  you  think  it  prudent  to  increase  our  speed  T 

"  'Prudent !'  thundered  the  captain,  'do  you  think  I 
would  give  the  order  if  I  didn't  think  so?  Not  a  word 
more,  hut  call  all  hands,  and  make  sail.' 

"Nothing  was  to  be  done  but  to  obey.  Accordingly  the 
reefs  were  let  out  of  the  topsails,  the  topgallant-sails  set, 
and  even  the  foretopmast  studding-sail.  Now,  my  lad,  al- 
though you  are  not  much  of  a  sailor,  you  can  understand 
that  it  was  perfect  madness  to  carry  so  much  sail  in  such 
a  tempest.  I  knew  at  once  what  would  happen,  and  pre- 
pared for  the  worst.  There  was  a  hencoop  lying  on  deck, 
and  I  resolved  that  if  the  worst  should  come  to  the  worst 
I  would  spring  for  that. 

"The  worst  did  come  to  the  worst.  The  ship  pitched 
about  like  a  mad  thing,  and  creaked  and  groaned  as  if  she 
were  a  human  being  in  the  greatest  distress,  and  I  can  tell 
you  the  sailors  looked  black  enough.  We  felt  that  our  lives 
were  being  risked,  and  all  for  the  intemperance  of  one 
man.  That  scene  cured  me  of  drinking  grog.  I  haven't 
drank  a  drop  since." 

"Did  anything  happen  to  the  ship  ?" 

"Yes,  my  lad,  something  did  happen  to  the  ship.  A 
heavy  sea  struck  her  amidships,  and  pitched  her  over  upon 
her  side.  After  we  recovered,  we  found  that  she  was 
etrained  severely  and  leaking  badly.     Well,  the  end  of  it 


Bill  Sturdy 's  Story.  135 

,v»o  that  we  had  to  abandon  her.  The  rest  of  the  crew- 
got  into  the  boats,  but  there  wasn't  fairly  room,  and  they 
were  so  overloaded  that  I  thought  I  would  be  safer  trust- 
ing to  the  old  hencoop.  They  tried  to  get  me  into  a  boat, 
but  I  had  a  kind  of  suspicion  that  they  wouldn't  live.  So 
I  stuffed  all  my  pockets  with  biscuit,  filled  a  tin  measure 
with  water,  and  trusted  myself  to  the  hencoop." 

"Did  the  boats  live?"  inquired  Charlie,  with  interest. 

"Not  a  single  one.  They  were  never  heard  from  again. 
No  doubt  they  all  went  down  in  the  storm.  Well,  my  lad, 
it  wasn't  the  pleasantest  thing  pitching  about  on  a  hencoop 
on  the  wild  sea,  fifty  miles,  at  least,  from  land.  But  my 
hope  was  that  I  should  be  seen  by  some  vessel  bound  for 
Havana.  In  that  case  I  knew  I  would  be  safe.  I  had 
provisions  enough  to  last  me  three  days,  and  I  could  make 
my  water  last  as  long  by  being  sparing  of  it.  I  had  to 
hold  on  to  the  hencoop  pretty  tight,  or  I  should  have  been 
washed  off  by  some  of  the  heavy  seas.  Of  course  I  got 
completely  drenched  by  the  salt  water,  and,  what  was 
worse,  the  biscuit  got  drenched,  too,  which  didn't  improve 
its  taste,  I  can  tell  you. 

"So  I  tossed  about  for  twenty-four  hours.  By  this  time 
the  gale  had  gone  down,  and  the  sea  was  more  quiet.  It 
was  at  this  time  that,  casting  my  eyes  about  to  see  if  I 
could  anywhere  catch  sight  of  a  sail,  I  descried  one  ap- 
parently making  toward  me," 

"Weren't  you  delighted  ?" 


136  Bill  Sturdy 's  Story. 

"I  was  at  first,"  said  Bill,  "but  as  she  came  nearer  I 
tried  not  to  attract  her  notice." 

"Why?"  asked  Charlie,  in  great  surj>rise. 

"Because,  my  lad,  I  recognized  in  her  the  Red  Hover, 
one  of  the  most  noted  pirates  that  cruised  in  those  seas." 


CHAPTER  XXL 

THE    PIRATE    SHIP. 

"How  did  you  know  she  was  a  pirate  ?"  inquired  Charlie. 

"I  suspected  her  in  the  first  place  from  her  rakish  look. 
All  pirate  ships,  you  know,  are  made  for  speed.  Besides, 
this  particular  ship  had  been  described  to  me  by  a  mess- 
mate who  had  once  been  on  board  a  ship  that  was  chased 
by  her,  though,  luckily,  before  the  pirate  had  a  chance 
to  overhaul  her,  two  other  vessels  came  in  sight  and  fright- 
ened her  away. 

"As  soon  as  I  made  out  the  approaching  vessel  to  be 
the  Bed  Rover,  I  repented  bitterly  the  signs  by  which  I 
had  drawn  her  attention.  I  ceased  making  signals,  but 
it  was  too  late.  She  had  already  seen  me,  and  a  boat 
was  filling  with  men  to  take  me  on  board.  Finding  I 
could  not  well  help  myself,  I  concluded  to  make  the  best 
of  it,  and  not  show  any  objection  to  going  with  the  boat's 
crew.  So  when  they  came  near  and  hailed  me,  asking 
me  who  I  was,  I  answered  as  heartily  as  I  could,  'Bill 
Sturdy,  of  the  good  ship  Peregrine,  bound  for  Havana.' 

"  'And  what's  become  of  your  ship  ?' 

"  'Gone  to  the  bottom,'  I  answered. 

"  'How  long  since  ?' 

137 


138  The  Pirate  Ship. 

"  'About  twenty-four  hours/ 

"  'How  did  it  happen  V 

"In  reply,  T  told  all  the  circumstances,  without  reserve, 
for  concealment  would  have  done  no  good.  There  was  a 
little  consultation  on  board  the  boat,  and  then  the  officer 
in  command  brought  it  up  alongside  my  hencoop,  and 
ordered  me  aboard. 

"This  I  did  with  as  much  alacrity  as  possible,  and  I 
tell  you,  my  lad,  it  did  seem  good  once  more  to  be  in 
a  boat,  even  though  it  belonged  to  a  pirate,  after  pitch- 
ing about  on  a  hencoop  for  twenty-four  hours. 

"Now  that  I  had  a  chance,  I  looked  at  the  men  that 
manned  the  boat.  They  were  villainous-looking  cutthroats 
— mostly  Spaniards,  with  dark,  lowering  faces  and  for- 
bidding expressions.  I  couldn't  help  turning  it  over  in 
my  mind  what  they  would  be  likely  to  do  with  me. 

"It  didn't  take  long  to  reach  the  pirate  vessel.  Those 
on  board  pressed  forward,  as  I  came  up  and  got  on  deck. 
They  were  all  pretty  much  alike.  The  captain  was  a  large, 
stout,  muscular  man,  though  I  believe,"  added  Bill,  with 
some  complacency,  "that  I  could  have  got  the  better  of 
him  in  a  regular  rough-and-tumble  fight.  However,  this 
isn't  neither  here  nor  there.  He  came  up  to  me  and  made 
me  answer  over  again  the  same  questions  which  had  been 
asked  me  before.  I  answered  them  in  the  same  way. 
After  he  had  got  through  with  his  questions,  he  fixed  his 
sharp,  black  eyes  on  me,  and  inquired:  'Do  you  know; 
the  name  of  the  ship  that  has  picked  you  up  ?' 


The  Pirate  Ship.  139 

**  'I  do,'  said  I  coolly,  thought  I  didn't  feel  as  cool  as  I 
appeared. 

"  'Ha !'  he  exclaimed,  in  surprise.     °What  is  it  V 

"  'It  is  the  Red  Rover,'  said  I,  making  believe  to  be  un- 
concerned. 

"  'And  are  you  acquainted  with  its  character  ?'  said  the 
captain,  with  another  of  his  sharp  looks. 

"  'I  believe  so/  said  I. 

"  'Name  it.' 

"  'I  think  it  is  a  pirate,'  said  I,  not  moving  a  muscle. 

"  'Ha !'  he  exclaimed,  looking  at  me  rather  curiously. 
'Are  you  not  afraid  to  find  yourself  on  board  a  pirate?' 

"  'Why  should  I  be  ?'  I  answered.  'But  for  you  I  should 
have  died  on  the  hencoop,  and  I  suppose,  if  you  had  meant 
to  take  away  my  life,  you  wouldn't  have  taken  the  trouble  to 
save  me,  since  death  was  certain.' 

"  'A  bold  fellow !'  said  the  captain,  aside,  to  the  mate. 
He  spoke  in  the  Spanish  language,  but  I  had  managed  to 
pick  up  some  odd  phrases  in  that  lingo,  so  I  knew  what  he 
was  driving  at.  The  mate  seemed  to  agree,  and  they  talked 
a  little  more.  I  didn't  understand,  but  guessed  it  was 
about  me. 

"The  pirate  captain,  after  a  short  confab  with  the  mate, 
turned  round  and  spoke  to  me.  'Well,  my  man,'  said  he, 
*I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  you've  hit  the  mark  in 
guessing  that  this  is  the  Red  Rover,  and  a  pirate.  I  be- 
lieve she  has  made  something  of  a  reputation  for  herself,' 
he  added  proudly. 


140  The  Pirate  Ship. 

"I  bowed. 

"  'Now,  I  have  a  proposal  to  make  to  you.  We're  rather 
short-handed.  We  need  two  or  three  brave  fellows,  and  I 
am  inclined  to  think,  from  your  bearing,  that  you  will 
suit  us.  Now,  if  you  would  like  it,  you  shall  be  admitted 
to  equal  privileges  with  the  rest  of  the  crew,  with  an  equal 
share  of  whatever  booty  we  manage  to  pick  up,  and  that, 
I  may  tell  you,  is  not  small.  Here,  Eoderigo,  step  for- 
ward, and  tell  this  man  how  much  your  share  was  last 
year/ 

"Eoderigo,  a  villainous-looking  fellow,  stepped  forward 
and  answered:  'Nearly  two  thousand  dollars  in  goods 
and  money.' 

"  'You  see,  then,  what  are  the  inducements.  Will  you 
join  us  or  not?' 

"Now,  I  very  well  knew  what  the  consequences  of  my 
refusal  would  be,  so  I  replied,  without  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, 'I  will.' " 

"What,  did  you  become  a  pirate?"  asked  Charlie,  hor- 
ror struck. 

"Pretty  much  in  the  same  way  that  you  became  a  sailor, 
my  lad ;  because  I  couldn't  help  it." 

"And  did  you  join  in  robbing  vessels,  and  killing  all 
on  board?" 

"Hold  on,  my  lad ;  you're  a  little  too  fast  for  me.  You'll 
know  in  due  time.  The  pirate  captain  seemed  pleased 
with  my  promptness,  and  made  me  sign  the  books.  I 
should  have  given  a  wrong  name,  only  I  had  given  the 


The  Pirate  Ship.  141 

right  one  when  I  was  hailed,  though,  for  that  matter, 
Sturdy  isn't  my  right  name.  The  captain  told  me,  in  a 
very  polite  sort  of  way,  that  if  I  should  undertake  to  play 
them  false,  or  interfere  with  them  in  any  way,  I  should 
be  pitched  overboard.  As  this  threat  did  not  seem  to 
trouble  me  much,  he  seemed  to  be  satisfied  that  it  was  all 
right  with  me.  In  the  course  of  a  day  or  two,  I  got  ac- 
quainted with  the  crew.  They  were  mostly  Spaniards, 
but  there  was  a  sprinkling  of  other  nations — French, 
Banes,  Germans,  and  one  Englishman/' 

"Were  there  any  Yankees?" 

"No,  I'm  proud  to  say  there  wasn't  one  except  myself, 
and  I  wasn't  there  of  my  own  free  will.  Piracy  doesn't 
chime  in  with  our  Yankee  notions,  and  it's  my  belief 
you'll  find  precious  few  full-blooded  Yankees  that  are  en- 
gaged in  the  business." 

"How  did  you  get  out  of  their  clutches  ?"  asked  Charlie. 

"That's  what  I'm  coming  to  by  and  by.  For  a  few  clays 
we  didn't  meet  a  vessel,  or,  at  least,  one  that  was  alone, 
and  so  would  do  to  attack.  I  was  glad  of  that,  for  I  was 
ready  enough  to  do  my  duty  on  board  the  ship,  but  I  knew 
that,  just  as  soon  as  we  met  a  vessel,  I  should  be  expected 
to  do  my  share  of  the  fighting,  and  it  went  against  my 
grain  to  engage  in  any  such  villainous  business  as  that. 
However,  I  thought  I  wouldn't  borrow  trouble,  but  wait 
til  lit  came,  and  then  I  could  decide  what  to  do. 

"At  last  I  heard  the  cry  I  so  much  dreaded,  'Sail  hoi' 


142  The  Pirate  Ship. 

from  one  of  the  crew,  who  had  been  sent  aloft  to  give  no- 
tice of  an  approaching  vessel. 

"jWhere  away?'  shouted  the  pirate  captain. 

"  'To  the  eastward/ 

"Orders  were  at  once  given  to  change  the  course  of  the 
vessel,  and  to  make  for  the  stranger.  As  soon  as  she  saw 
us  she  made  every  effort  to  get  away,  but  the  Red  Rover 
was  too  swift  for  her.  When  we  got  within  a  short  dis- 
tance, I  made  out  the  vessel  to  be  the  Sally  Ann,  which, 
had  left  port  about  the  time  the  Peregrine  did.  I  knew 
some  of  those  on  board  very  well,  and  the  captain  was  an. 
old  schoolmate  of  mine. 

"  •'What  would  they  think/  I  couldn't  help  saying  to 
myself,  with  a  groan,  'if  they  knew  their  old  messmate  wag 
regularly  enrolled  among  the  crew  of  the  pirate  that  is 
overhauling  them  ?' " 


CHAPTER  XXIT. 

HOW   TO   ESCAPE   FROM    A    PIRATE. 

Bill  Sturdy  paused  to  take  a  whiff  at  his  pipe,,  and 
then  resumed  his  story,  in  which  Charlie  manifested  no 
6light  interest. 

"I  was  taken  all  aback,"  he  continued,  "when  I  found 
it  was  the  Sally  Ann  I  was  expected  to  join  hands  with 
the  piratee  against.  I  couldn't  help  thinking  of  the 
many  pleasant  hours  I  had  spent  on  board  that  vessel, 
chatting  and  spinning  yarns  with  the  crew.  What  to  do 
I  didn't  know. 

"The  pirates  were  already  clearing  for  action,  and  all 
seemed  as  busy  as  bees.  You  ought  to  have  seen  the  eager 
look  there  was  on  their  villainous  faces,  as  they  watched 
the  Sally  Ann,  just,  for  all  the  world,  like  a  crafty  spider 
lying  in  wait  for  a  fat  fly. 

"Just  then  the  captain  came  up  to  where  I  was  stand- 
ing and  fixed  his  sharp  glance  on  me.  'Now,  my  man/ 
said  he,  'here's  a  chance  for  you  to  distinguish  yourself. 
That  vessel  will  no  doubt  prove  a  rich  prize.  Do  your 
duty  like  a  man  in  the  coming  engagement  and  you  shall 
have  a  pond  share  of  the  spoils.  If  you  don't,  or  if  you 
^rove  fa'*"*  *o  us,  you  know  your  fat* 
143 


144  How  to  Escape  from  a  Pirate. 

"He  pointed  to  the  yardarm,  as  much  as  to  say  that  I 
should  be  strung  up  if  I  refused  obedience,  and  I've  no 
doubt  he  would  have  kept  his  word. 

"I  just  answered,  'Aye,  aye,  sir,'  without  looking  par- 
ticularly concerned. 

"  'What  will  you  do  to  the  crew  when  the  ship  has  fallen 
into  your  hands?'  I  asked. 

"  'Send  them  to  Davy  Jones'  locker,'  he  said,  with  no 
more  compunction  than  if  he  were  speaking  of  a  litter  of 
kittens. 

"Well,  I  felt  as  if  I  was  in  a  pretty  tight  place;  some 
like  a  man  I've  heard  of  somewhere,  who  was  being 
chased  by  a  buffalo.  At  last  he  came  to  a  precipice  a 
hundred  feet  high.  Of  course  it  would  be  death  for  him 
to  jump  off  and  it  would  be  just  as  much  death  for  him 
to  stay  where  he  was.  So  he  just  waited  till  the  old  buf- 
falo was  close  to  him,  and  then  he  dodged  out  of  the  way, 
and  the  buffalo,  who  was  going  at  full  speed,  leaped  over 
the  precipice,  and  was  dashed  to  pieces.  Well,  I  thought 
whether  I  couldn't  do  something  of  that  kind.  I  knew 
that,  if  I  shouldn't  fight,  the  pirates  would  be  as  good  as 
their  word,  and  kill  me,  and,  if  I  did,  I  should  be  guilty 
of  piracy,  and  be  liable  to  be  hung  as  a  pirate,  i*  ever  I 
got  caught." 

"That  was  a  pretty  hard  choice,"  said  Charlie. 

"So  it  seemed  to  me,"  said  Bill.  "The  only  thing  I 
thought  of  that  would  do  me  any  good  was  to  turn  upon 
the  pirates  some  way.     If  I  could  only  have  jumped  into 


How  to  Escape  from  a  Pirate.  145 

the  water,  imobserved,  and  swam  to  the  other  ship,  I  would 
have  fought  to  the  last  in  their  defense." 

"Why  didn't  you  do  it?" 

"Well,  my  lad,  there  were  two  objections.  In  the  first 
place  the  pirates  would  have  seen  what  I  was  at  and  fired 
at  me  in  the  water.  In  the  second  place,  the  sailors  on 
board  the  Sally  Ann,  thinking  that  I  was  a  pirate,  would 
have  suspected  I  was  up  to  some  mischief,  and  so,  most 
likely,  they  would  have  blazed  away  at  me,  too.  So,  be- 
tween the  two  fires,  I  shouldn't  have  stood  a  very  good 
chance." 

"I  don't  know  but  you  are  right." 

"jSTo,  my  lad,  it  didn't  take  me  very  long  to  decide  that 
there  was  nothing  to  be  gained  in  that  way.  At  that  mo- 
ment I  chanced  to  go  down  below  for  something,  when 
my  eye  rested  on — what  do  you  think  ?" 

"What  was  it?" 

"It  was  a  Tceg  of  poivder,"  said  Bill,  shaking  the  ashes 
from  his  pipe.  "Perhaps,  my  lad,  you  can  guess  what 
thought  that  put  me  up  to." 

"Was  it  to  blow  them  all  up?"  asked  Charlie,  in  excite- 
ment. 

"You've  hit  it,  my  lad." 

"But  that  would  be  dangerous  to  you." 

"I  knew  that  well  enough,"  said  the  sailor.  "There  was 
precious  little  chance  of  old  Bill  Sturdy  living  to  tell  the 
story;  but,  my  lad,  I'll  tell  you  what  made  me  overlook  that. 
I  must  either  turn  pirate  and  always  remain  so,  with  a 


146  How  to  Escape  from  a  Pirate. 

pretty  considerable  chance  of  swinging  from  the  gallows 
some  time,  or  else  be  butchered  by  the  pirates  for  refusing 
to  join  them.  So,  as  there  didn't  seem  to  be  much  but 
death  in  prospect,  that  consideration  didn't  weigh  much. 
Then  I  thought  that,  if  I  did  die  by  the  explosion,  I  should 
have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  the  rascally  pirates 
would  share  my  fate,  and  the  Red  Rover,  the  scourge  of 
the  seas,  would  never  do  any  more  harm.  Besides  that.  I 
ehould  save  the  Sally  Ann  and  the  lives  of  the  captain  and 
crew,  and  that  was  something  glorious  to  think  of." 

The  boy's  cheek  glowed  with  sympathetic  ardor,  and  he 
clasped  Bill  Sturdy's  rough  hand,  in  token  of  understand- 
ing and  appreciating  his  motive. 

"That  seemed  the  only  way  open  to  me,"  resumed  Bill, 
"and  I  determined  to  adopt  it.  Of  course  there  were  nine 
chances  out  of  ten  that  I  should  be  blown  up  with  the  rest 
of  them,  but  still  there  was  a  possibility  of  escape.  I 
couldn't  help  thinking  of  that,  and  the  more  J  thought,  the 
more  }  had  a  kind  of  feeling  that  I  should  escape.  I 
thought  I  would  go  up  on  deck  a  minute,  before  carrying 
out  my  design,  and  see  what  was  going  on.  Well,  the  pirates 
had  about  got  ready  for  action.  The  decks  had  been  cleared, 
the  cutlasses  and  pistols  and  other  murderous  weapons  had 
been  distributed  among  the  men,  and,  altogether,  there 
seemed  precious  little  chance  for  the  poor  fellows  on  board 
the  Sally  Ann,  especially,  as  I  knew  well  enough,  that  they 
had  no  cannon,  and  only  a  few  pistols,  that  were  not  likely 
to  do  them  much  good. 


How  to  Escape  from  a  Pirate,  7 

"There  wasn't  much  time  to  lose,  as  the  action  was 
ing  to  commence.     So  I  slipped  clown  below,  and  f: 
slow  match,  so  that  it  would  reach  the  powder  in  ab< 
minute.     I  had  just  about  got  it  fixed,  when  who  sh<   i.!d 
I  see  coming  down  but  the  pirate  captain.    It  see] 
all  my  plans  were  going  to  be  knocked  in  the  head 
doubt  he  suspected  that  all  was  not  as  it  should  be,  an  !       3 
coming  down  to  see  what  was  to  pay.    I  felt  desperate,   tad 
fetched  him  as  powerful  a  blow  us  I  was  able  on  the  i 
the  head,  and  he  fell  like  an  ox,  pretty  effectually  stnnn     ." 

"What  next  ?" 

"The  next  thing  I  did  was  to  hurry  upon  deck.  ^Where's 
the  captain?'  asked  the  mate.  'He'll  be  up  directly,5  aid 
I.  And  so  he  was,  but  not  in  the  sense  that  he  tun  i- 
stood  it. 

"Well,  I  listened  on  deck  for  about  half  a  minute  in  a 
terrible  state  of  anxiety,  you  may  be  sure.  Then,  feeling 
that  it  was  not  safe  for  me  to  stay  any  longer,  I  jumped  into 
the  water  and  began  to  swim  toward  the  Sally  Ann.  As 
my  head  rose  above  the  water,  I  saw  the  mate  about  to  Sre 
at  me,  and  I  dove.  When  my  head  was  fairly  out  of  water 
again,  such  a  sound  as  smote  upon  my  ear!  The  light  "ad 
reached  the  powder,  and  there  was  a  terrible  exple  'on. 
The  ship  was  shattered  to  pieces.  The  pirates  were  hurled 
into  the  air,  some  with  mutilated  limbs,  and  I  rather  thh  k 
that  some  of  them  were  considerably  astonished.  The  cap- 
tain did  go  up,  as  I  promised.  lie  was  flung  a  hundred 
feet  into  the  air,  and  never  came  down  again  alive.     For 


148  How  to  Escape  from  a  Pirate. 

my  part,  I  was  lucky  enough  to  reach  the  Sally  Ann,  un- 
touched by  the  falling  fragments.  When  they  found  out 
who  I  was,  and  how  I  had  saved  them,  their  gratitude  knew 
no  bounds.  The  owners  made  up  a  purse  of  two  thou- 
sand dollars,  and  presented  it  to  me." 

"And  what  did  you  do  with  it?" 

"When  I  got  back  to  Boston  I  put  it  in  one  of  the  places 
you  call  savings  banks,  and  I  expect  it's  there  now." 


CHAPTEE  XXIII. 


ANTONIO'S  PLOT. 


Such  is  a  specimen  of  the  }Tams — sometimes  true — some= 
times  spun  out  of  whole  cloth — with  which  the  sailors 
amused  themselves  and  beguiled  the  tedium  of  the  night- 
watch. 

The  companionship  of  honest  and  stout-hearted  Bill 
Sturdy  proved  a  great  source  of  happiness  to  Charlie,  and 
enabled  him  to  bear  up,  as  otherwise  he  might  have  found 
it  difficult  to  do,  under  the  hardships  of  his  condition,  the 
persecution  of  the  captain  and  the  mate,  who  had  not  for- 
gotten their  animosity,  and  the  uncertainty  he  could  not 
but  feel  as  to  the  situation  in  which  his  mother  was  left, 
with  the  painful  doubt  as  to  whether  she  would  be  able  to 
support  herself  till  he  could  return  and  relieve  her  neces- 
sities. 

"When  we  get  back,  my  lad,"  said  Bill  Sturdy,  "I'll  put 
half  that  money  in  a  savings  bank  in  your  name,  so  that 
if  you  and  your  mother  want  it  at  any  time,  you  can  use 
it." 

"No,  Bill,"  said  Charlie  earnestly,  "you  are  very  kind, 
but  I  couldn't  consent  to  that." 
149 


150  Antonio's  Plot. 

*And  why  not,  my  lad?  What  do  I  want  of  it?  I'vt 
got  neither  chick  nor  child,  and  am  not  likely  to  have. 
l>e  taken  a  fancy  to  you,  and  the  money'll  do  you  more 
good  than  me." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  said  Charlie  gratefully;  "hut  I 
Mustn't  take  advantage  of  your  generosity." 

"Nonsense,  my  lad.  I  know  what  it  is  to  be  a  poor  hoy, 
•without  money  or  friends,  and  nowadays  money  will  bring 
friends.  Mayhap  it'll  start  you  in  some  business,  and  when 
you  get  rich  you  can  pay  me ;  or  if,  by  and  by,  I  take  a 
Motion  to  come  to  anchor  on  shore,  you'll  give  me  a  corner 
in  your  house,  where  I  can  smoke  my  pipe  and  spin  my 
yarns." 

"That  I  will,  Bill,"  said  Charlie,  seizing  the  old  sailor's 
rough  hand.  "If  I  have  a  roof  to  cover  me,  it  shall  cover 
you,  too." 

"Thank  you,  my  lad,"  said  Bill.    "I  know  you  would." 

Under  Bill  Sturdy 's  rough  exterior  there  was  a  kind 
heart  which  warmed  to  the  hoy,  partly  because  of  his  soli- 
tary position  on  board,  partly  on  account  of  his  manliness 
and  attractive  qualities.     So  they  became  fast  friends. 

Charlie  did  not  find  his  duties  altogether  distasteful.  He 
was  a  bright,  active  boy,  not  without  ambition,  and  resolved 
to  do  himself  credit  in  his  new  position,  however  it  may 
have  been  forced  upon  him.  For  this  reason  it  was  that 
the  captain  and  the  mate,  although  they  watched  him  with 
lynx  eyes,  hoping  that  be  would  afford  them  some  pretext 
for  showing  their  rancorous  feelings  towards  him,  watched 


Antonio's  Plot.  151 

ineffectually.  By  his  activity  and  his  frank  and  manly  dis- 
position he  was  fast  ingratiating  himself  with  the  crew, 
who  were  the  more  disposed  to  espouse  his  cause,  because 
they  could  not  fail  to  notice  the  injustice  with  which  [he 
officers  treated  him. 

But  trouble  was  brewing  Pot  Charlie,  and  soon  the  storm, 
broke  forth. 

The  scuffle  between  Bill  Sturdy  and  Antonio,  of  which 
Charlie  was  the  occasion,  will  not  have  been  forgotten.  An- 
tonio had  before  hated  Bill  on  account  of  his  superiority  in 
strength,  which  deprived  him  of  his  former  champion's  life. 
This  feeling  was  increased  by  the  issue  of  the  contest  which 
had  resulted  in  his  humiliation  and  defeat,  and  his  anger 
was  also  stirred  up  against  Charlie,  who  had  been  the  occa- 
sion of  it.  Yet  he  did  not  dare  to  venture  upon  abuse,  be- 
cause it  was  generally  understood  that  Bill  Sturdy  had  con- 
stituted himself  Charlie's  especial  friend  and  protector. 

But  there  were  other  ways  of  compassing  his  end.  An- 
tonio felt  that  his  revenge  must  be  a  more  secret  one,  and 
he  desired  that  it  should  involve  both  Bill  Sturdy  and  his 
protege.  If  he  could  only  involve  Charlie  in  some  offense 
which  would  draw  upon  him  the  active  displeasure  of  the 
captain,  and  subject  him  to  public  punishment,  he  felt  sure 
that  Bill  Sturdy  would  not  stand  tamely  by  and  see  it  in- 
flicted, while  any  interference  would  be  insubordination, 
and  get  his  rival  into  serious  trouble. 

After  reflection  Antonio  decided  to  implicate  Charlie  ia 
a  charge  of  theft.    It  happened  that  the  captain  had  a  valu- 


152  Antonio's  Plot. 

able  gold  ring,  set  with  diamonds,  which  he  prized  even 
beyond  its  pecuniary  value.  Captain  Brace,  however,  was 
not  a  careful  man.  He  would  sometimes  take  off  his  ring, 
and  lay  it  down  on  the  cabin  table.  On  one  occasion  An- 
tonio, while  upon  deck,  observed  the  captain  pass,  and  as- 
certained by  a  swift  glance  that  the  ring  was  not  upon  his 
finger.  He  watched  his  opportunity,  and,  slipping  down 
into  the  cabin,  found,  as  he  anticipated,  the  ring  upon  the 
table.  It  was  the  work  of  a  moment  to  snatch  and  conceal 
it  in  his  pocket. 

He  returned  to  the  work  in  which  he  had  been  engaged, 
and  resumed  it,  supposing  he  had  not  been  observed.  In 
this  he  was  mistaken. 

Bill  Sturdy  had  had  his  eye  upon  him  from  the  time  of 
his  difficulty  with  him.  He  could  see  Antonio's  craftiness 
in  his  face,  and  the  apparent  affability  and  conciliatory 
manner  of  the  latter  afterward  had  by  no  means  deceived 
him. 

"Look  out  for  squalls,"  thought  he.  "He's  too  fair-seem- 
ing to  be  trusted.  I've  no  doubt  he's  hatching  up  something 
or  other.    I'll  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  him." 

When  Antonio  made  his  stealthy  visit  to  the  cabin,  as 
above  described,  the  vigilant  eye  of  Bill  Sturdy  was  upon 
him  and  his  movements.  In  a  moment  he  reappeared. 
Bill  saw  it  all  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,  though  he  ap- 
peared to  be  looking  in  just  the  opposite  direction. 

"What's  the  fellow  up  to  ?"  he  thought.    "Some  mischief, 


Antonio's  Plot.  153 

I  reckon.  What  business  has  he  in  the  cabin?  I  must 
watch  him." 

Of  course,  Antonio's  object  will  be  understood.  He 
meant  to  place  the  ring  in  Charlie's  chest,  and  when  the 
loss  should  be  discovered  by  the  captain,  he  would  suggest 
that  a  general  search  should  be  instituted,  the  result  of 
which  must  involve  the  boy. 

Charlie  was,  of  course,  quite  unconscious  of  the  machi- 
nations which  were  being  formed  against  him,  and  even 
Bill  was  not  yet  quite  certain  for  what  purpose  Antonio 
had  made  his  visit  to  the  cabin. 

Antonio  felt  the  necessity  of  doing  quickly  what  he  had 
in  contemplation.  Going  below,  he  made  his  way  to  the 
chest  belonging  to  Charlie,  and,  lifting  the  cover,  for  it  was 
unlocked,  let  the  ring  drop  into  one  corner. 

Bill  Sturdy  saw  his  second  disappearance  from  the  deck. 
He  could  not  ascertain  precisely  what  he  was  doing,  without 
following  him — a  thing  which  he  did  not  wish  to  do,  since 
it  would  arouse  Antonio's  suspicions,  and  place  him  on  his 
guard. 

Antonio  came  up  with  an  expression  of  malicious  satis- 
faction, which  Bill  did  not  fail  to  notice. 

"I  wish,"  he  thought,  "I  knew  exactly  what  the  fellow 
has  been  doing." 

Bill  was  destined  to  learn  ere  long. 

The  captain  went  below,  and  glanced  carelessly  at  the 
place  where  he  remembered  to  have  left  the  ring.  To  his 
surprise  it  had  disappeared. 


154  Antonio's  Plot. 

"What  can  have  become  of  it?"  he  thought. 

He  instituted  a  careful  examination,  but  did  not  succeed 
in  finding  the  lost  article.  It  occurred  to  him  that  he  might 
have  been  mistaken  about  leaving  it  on  the  table.  It  might 
possibly  have  been  dropped  upon  deck. 

Going  on  deck,  he  communicated  his  loss  to  the  crew,  aad 
requested  a  general  search. 

"I  think,  Captain  Brace,"  said  Antonio,  officiously,  "that 
I  can  guess  where  it  is." 

"Where?" 

"I  saw  that  boy  have  it,"  pointing  to  Charlie. 

"It's  a  lie !"  exclaimed  Charlie,  surprised  and  indignant. 

"We'll  see  about  that/"  said  the  captain,  with  a  sneer. 
"Do  you  know  what  he  did  with  it,  Antonio  ?" 

"I  think  he  may  have  hidden  it  in  his  chest." 

"Let  his  chest  be  brought  on  deck  and  publicly  examined, 
If  lie  is  found  guilty  he  shall  be  punished,  as  sure  as  mf 
name  is  Brace." 


CHAPTER  XXIV, 

CHARLIE  GETS  INTO  TROUBLE. 

Charlie,  at  first  taken  by  surprise  when  the  charge  of 
theft  was  brought  against  him,  now  looked  scornfully  in- 
dignant. Ignorant  of  the  ways  of  the  world,  and  the  wick- 
edness of  which  some  men  are  capable,  lie  never,  for  a  mo- 
Bent,  feared  the  result  of  the  investigation.  As  for  the 
crew,  they  had  already  become  interested  in  his  favor,  and 
now  pitied  him  for  the  unfortunate  position  in  which  he 
foimd  himself  placed.     None  of  them  believed  him  guilty. 

As  the  captain  had  directed,  his  chest  was  brought  on 
deck.  Before  this  was  searched,  however,  he  was  subjected 
to  a  personal  examination,  at  which  nothing  was  discov- 
ered.   There  was  a  murmur  of  satisfaction. 

"The  lad  never  stole  the  ring,"  said  a  stout  seaman, 
standing  next  to  the  real  perpetrator  of  the  crime,  Antonio. 

"Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,"  said  the  Spaniard,  in  a 
malignant  tone.    "His  chest  hasn't  been  searched  yet." 

"I  don't  care  for  that;  I  can  tell  by  his  face.  A  lad,  with 
such  a  figure-head  as  that,  wouldn't  do  anything  mean  or 
dishonorable." 

"You  seem  to  have  taken  a  great  f  -p»y  to  b^m,"  sneered 
155 


156  Charlie  Gets  Into  Trouble. 

Antonio.  "You  mustn't  trust  too  much  to  appearance. 
He  looks  to  me  as  if  he  were  guilty." 

Charlie's  cheeks  were  flushed,  hut  not  with  shame  or 
coiffusion.  It  was  indignation,  that  he  should  be  sus- 
pected of  such  a  disgraceful  crime. 

By  his  side  stood  Bill  Sturdy,  who  took  au  opportunity 
of  whispering  into  his  ear:  "Never  you  mind,  my  lad, 
even  if  the  ring  is  found  in  your  chest." 

"But  it  isn't  there,"  said  Charlie. 

"It  may  be,"  said  Bill,  who,  by  this  time,  suspected  the 
nature  of  Antonio's  two  errands  below. 

"How  should  it  be  there?"  asked  Charlie,  quite  in  the 
dark. 

"It  might  have  been  put  there,  my  lad." 

"But  who  could  put  it  there  ?" 

"Hark  you,  my  lad,"  said  Bill,  still  further  lowering  his 
tones;  "you've  got  more  than  one  enemy  on  board  this 
ship." 

"The  mate." 

"Yes,  and  the  captain,  too,  for  that  matter." 

"But  neither  of  them  would  put  the  ring  in  my  chest." 

"No,  probably  not." 

"Then  who  would?" 

"There  is  another  enemy  besides  these  two." 

"Do  you  mean  Antonio?" 

"Yes." 

"But  he  seemed  friendly  lately." 

"He  isn't  to  be  trusted,  my  lad.     He's  borne  a  grudge 


Charlie  Gets  Into  Trouble.  157 

against  both  of  us  ever  since  I  got  the  better  of  him  the 
other  day,  and  he's  made  up  his  mind  to  be  revenged.  I've 
been  watching  him  when  he  didn't  suspect  it,  and  know 
more  than  he  thinks  I  do." 

"Do  you  know  anything  of  this  affair,  Bill?"  asked 
Charlie,  looking  up  hopefully  into  the  face  of  his  friend. 

"I  expect  I  do." 

"What  is  it  ?"  questioned  our  hero  eagerly. 

"I  shall  save  it  till  it  will  do  some  good.  But  see,  they 
have  nearly  finished  searching  your  chest.  Perhaps  the 
ring  is  not  there,  after  all." 

As  Bill  said,  the  search  was  nearly  completed.  Charlie's 
clothes  had  been  unceremoniously  tumbled  out  upon  deck, 
which  was  not  calculated  to  improve  their  appearance,  and 
the  captain  and  mate,  who  had  shown  themselves  particu- 
larly active  on  the  occasion,  were  peering  about  in  search 
of  the  lost  ring. 

It  chanced,  however,  that  the  ring  had  got  in  a  fold  of 
one  of  the  shirts  which  lay  upon  deck.  Of  course,  therefore, 
the  search  in  the  chest  proved  unavailing. 

"I  doubt  whether  it  is  here,"  said  the  captain,  in  a  tone 
of  disappointment." 

"Let  us  look  a  little  longer,"  said  the  mate,  who  could 
not  so  easily  resign  the  chance  of  getting  into  trouble  the 
boy  whom  he  hated  with  a  malevolence  such  as  his  nature 
was  capable  of. 

Antonio  became  alarmed  at  the  prospect  of  all  his  plana 
being  frustrated  by  a  failure  to  find  ihc  ring. 


158  Charlie  Gets  Into  Trouble. 

When  the  mate  also  gave  up  the  search,  he  came  for- 
ward, and,  addressing  the  captain,  said : 

"Captain  Brace,  if  you  will  let  me  assist  in  the  searofe, 
perhaps  I  can  succeed  in  finding  it." 

"You  are  the  one  that  saw  the  boy  have  it,  are  yon?" 
queried  the  captain. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"How  long  since  ?" 

"About  half  an  hour." 

"Why  did  you  not  mention  it  at  that  time  ?" 

"I  thought  perhaps  he  had  only  picked  it  up,  and  would 
give  it  back  to  you,"  said  the  Spaniard,  in  some  confusion. 
"I  didn't  want  to  charge  him  with  the  theft  till  I  felt  sure 
he  meant  to  steal  it." 

"And  what  makes  you  feel  sure  he  did  so  intend  ?" 

"Because  when  you  said  the  ring  was  lost,  he  did  not 
come  forward  and  restore  it." 

"Aye,"  said  Captain  Brace,  "that  is  strongly  against 
him.  If  it  is  found  that  he  has  concealed  it  anywhere,  he 
shall  repent  it." 

"What  reason  have  you  for  supposing  that  he  concealed 
it  in  his  chest?"  asked  the  mate. 

"Because  I  saw  him  go  down  below,"  answered  Antonio, 
with  unblushing  falsehood. 

"It's  a  lie,"  said  Charlie  boldly.  "I  haven't  been  below 
this  morning." 

"Silence!"  thundered  the  captain,  scowling  menacingly; 
"don't  add  falsehood  to  theft." 


Charlie  Gets  Into  Trouble.  159 

"I  haven't  been  guilty  of  theft,"  sai(l  Charlie  boldly. 

"Silence!"  again  thundered  the  captain,  "or  it  will  be 
the  worse  for  you."' 

"You  had  better  not  say  anything  more,  my  lad,"  whis- 
pered Bill  Sturdy ;  "we  shall  yet  bring  you  off  with  flying 
colors.  Don't  you  fear.  Bill  Sturdy  is  your  friend,  and 
he  will  stand  by  you." 

Charlie  looked  grateful. 

"I  think.  Captain  Brace/'  said  "Randall,  "that  we  may 
venture  to  let  Antonio  assist  us,  since  he  may  succeed  where 
we  have  failed." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  captain,  "I  have  no  objection  to 
offer.  On  the  contrary,  if  he  succeeds  in  finding  it,  I  will 
take  care  that  he  shall  be  rewarded." 

Antonio  was  already  on  his  knees  before  the  chest.  There 
was  a  murmur  of  disapprobation  among  the  crew.  They 
were  in  favor  of  fair  play,  and  this  undue  eagerness  to  con- 
vict the  boy  of  guilt  did  not  commend  itself  to  their  sense 
of  justice  and  generosity.  But  Antonio  cared  little  for  the 
semaii.m  which  his  conduct  might  excite  among  his  fellow 
seamen.  He  cared  more  for  the  gratification  of  his  revenge 
than  for  personal  popularity. 

A  glance  satisfied  him  that  the  ring  was  not  in  the 
chest.  He  next  began  to  examine  carefully  the  clothes 
which  had  been  taken  out  and  were  lying  on  deck. 

Ju  lifting  and  shaking  a  shirt  the  ring  rolled  out. 

"There  is  your  ring,  Captaia  Brace,"  id  he,  in  a  tone 
of  exultation,  as  lie  picked  it  up  and  extended  it  in  tlie 
captain. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  REAL  CULPRIT  DISCOVERED. 

The  discovery  of  the  ring  made  a  profound  impression 
upon  all  present.  The  sailors  looked  at  first  surprised  and 
then  sorrowful,  for  they  could  not  escape  the  conviction 
that  Charlie  had  heen  tempted  by  the  richness  of  the  prize 
and  had  actually  stolen  it. 

Charlie  was  overwhelmed  with  astonishment  and  indig- 
nation, and  the  thought  that  he  was  considered  guilty  made 
him  feel  very  uncomfortable. 

The  captain,  the  mate,  and  Antonio  could  hardly  conceal 
the  satisfaction  which  this  discovery  afforded  them.  Each 
had  motives  of  his  own,  the  captain  being,  of  course,  glad  to 
recover  an  article  which  he  valued,  but  of  the  three  perhaps 
there  was  none  that  felt  a  more  malicious  satisfaction  thay 
the  one  who  had  devised  the  plot.  He  glanced  exultantly 
at  Charlie  and  Bill  Sturdy,  who  he  knew  would  be  equally 
affected  by  his  favorite's  misfortune. 

Bill  Sturdy  returned  his  glance  composedly.  Antonio 
was  disappointed  to  find  that  he  neither  looked  disturbed 
nor  frightened.     Bill  waited  calmly  the  course  of  events. 

Captain  Brace  exclaimed  in  his  harsh  voice  : 

<Tt  seems  we  have  a  thief  on  board.  We'll  soon  teach 
160 


The  Real  Culprit  Discovered.  161 

him  the  way  all  such  rascals  will  be  treated  on  board  this 
ship.     Boy,  take  off  your  jacket." 

"Captain  Brace,"  said  Charlie,  with  glowing  cheeks  and 
in  a  tone  that  might  have  convinced  any  one  not  prejudiced 
against  him,  "just  hear  what  I  am  going  to  say.  I  didn't 
steal  your  ring,  indeed  I  didn't.  I  would  scorn  to  do  such 
a  thing.  Ever  since  I  could  speak  my  mother  has  taught 
me  how  mean  a  thing  it  is  to  take  what  belongs  to  another. 
I  own  that  appearances  are  against  me." 

Here  Kandall  stepped  forward  with  an  evil  smile  upon 
his  face. 

"Captain  Brace,  as  I  am  the  uncle  of  this  boy,  perhaps 
you  will  allow  me  to  tell  you  how  much  dependence  can  be 
placed  upon  his  word.  He  is  an  artful  young  rascal.  I  am 
sorry  to  say  it,  since  he  is  related  to  me,  but  the  fact  is,  he 
was  on  the  point  of  being  arrested  for  theft  just  before  we 
sailed,  when  I,  to  protect  him  from  imprisonment,  and 
snatch  him  from  the  custody  of  the  law,  took  him  to  sea 
with  me.  I  have  said  this  against  my  will,  because, 
although  I  know  you,  Captain  Brace,  would  not  be  im- 
posed upon  by  his  story,  I  thought  there  might  be  others 
that  would." 

The  sailors  looked  at  each  other,  not  knowing  what  to 
think,  while  the  captain  exclaimed  sternly : 

"So  this  is  not  the  first  of  your  tricks,  my  fine  fellow. 
You  shall  have  justice  done  you  on  the  sea,  if  not  on  the 
land.     Strip,  I  tell  you." 

Charlie  was  so  thunderstruck  by  Randall's  bold  falsehood 


162  The  Real  Culprit  Discovered. 

that  he  actually  had  nothing  to  say.  He  mechanically 
began  to  take  off  his  jacket. 

At  this  moment  the  voice  of  Bill  Sturdy  was  heard,  as, 
hitching  up  his  trousers  a  bit,  he  left  the  mast  against 
which  he  had  been  leaning,  and  advanced  into  the  midst 
of  the  assembled  sailors. 

"Captain  Brace,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  firm  but  respectful, 
"if  you'll  allow  me,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  know  of  this  affair." 

"So  you  know  something  about  it,  do  you  ?" 

"I  thought  so,''  said  Randall,  in  a  low  voice,  for  he  bad 
disliked  Bill  from  the  first. 

"I  do,"  was  the  composed  reply,  "but  I  have  no  reason  to 
be  ashamed  of  what  1  do  know.'' 

"I  think,"  said  the  mate,  "we  already  know  all  that  we 
require,  since  we  have  discovered  the  thief." 

He  was  apprehensive,  from  Bill's  tone,  that  what  he  had 
to  say  might  put  a  different  face  on  the  matter,  and  perhaps 
clear  Charlie. 

Captain  Brace,  however,  did  not  choose  to  be  guided  by 
the  implied  advice  of  his  first  officer.  He  had  a  curiosity 
to  learn  what  Sturdy  had  to  communicate. 

"Say  on  ;  what  do  you  know  of  this  affair?" 

'•Very  well,  sir.  About  an  hour  ago  you  came  up  from 
the  cabin  and  began  to  pace  the  deck." 

The  captain  assented. 

"As  you  passed  T  observed  one  of  the  crew  take  a  hasty 
glance  at  your  linger.  1  looked,  also,  and  saw  that  you 
were  ■  ■  ag  your  ring  as  usual/* 


The  Eeal  Culprit  Discovered.  168 

"Well,  who  was  the  sailor?" 

"I  would  rather  not  mention  his  name  just  at  present, 
unless  you  insist  upon  it." 

The  captain  did  not  insist,  and  Sturdy  proceeded. 

"I  thought  I  would  just  keep  my  eyes  open,  and  see  what 
followed.  Pretty  soon  the  sailor  I  spoke  of  looked  about 
him  to  see  if  he  was  unnoticed,  and  crept  slyly  down  below. 
A  little  later  he  came  up  and  went  to  work  again." 

"Was  that  all  ?" 

"It  was  not,*'  answered  Sturdy.  "He  kept  at  work  about 
ten  minutes  longer,  and  then  stole  toward  the  forecastle 
with  the  same  secrecy  as  before.  I  should  have  followed 
him  down,  but  I  thought  he  would  notice  me.  My  mind 
misgave  me  that  he  was  in  some  mischief.  I  determined  I 
would  remember  what  happened,  and,  if  anything  turned 
up,  I  should  know  how  it  came  about." 

"And  what  do  you  make  of  all  this?"  said  Randall, 
sneering.  "To  my  mind  it  is  a  foolish  story,  and,  even  if 
true,  amounts  to  nothing." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  think,  and  am  about  sure  of,  Mr. 
Randall,"  said  Bill,  without  betraying  a  particle  of  excite- 
ment, but  continuing  to  speak  with  the  same  calm  com- 
posure as  before,  "I  believe  that  man  in  the  first  place  stole 
the  captain's  ring,  and  then  went  and  put  it  into  the  lad's 
chest,  in  order  that  it  might  be  found  there,  and  the  guilt 
fixed  on  him." 

This  assertion  made  a  sensation  among  the  crew,  and 
there  was  a  general  feeling  that  Charlie  was  innocent. 


164  The  Real  Culprit  Discovered. 

"Who  is  this  man  of  whom  you  have  been  speaking  ?" 
said  the  captain. 

"I  don't  need  to  name  him,"  said  Bill.  "I  don't  need 
even  to  look  at  him.  If  you  will  look  around  you,  Captain 
Brace,  you  can  tell  by  his  looks  who  the  man  is  that  has 
hatched  this  wicked  plot  against  an  innocent  boy." 

Instantly  the  eyes  of  all,  as  if  by  some  common  impulse, 
were  fixed  upon  the  form  of  Antonio,  who,  confused,  thun- 
derstruck by  the  minute  detail  of  his  movements,  which  he 
had  supposed  unnoticed  by  any  one,  now  stood  with  his  face 
alternately  flushing  and  paling,  looking  the  very  picture 
of  detected  guilt. 

Unable  to  bear  the  glances  fixed  upon  him,  he  exclaimed 
in  a  voice  hoarse  with  passion : 

"It  is  false.     I  never  did  it." 

"No  one  has  accused  you,  that  I  know  of,"  said  Bill 
Sturdy,  coolly.  "Leastways,  nobody  that  I  know  of,  ex- 
cepting yourself,  and  your  face  is  enough  to  do  that.  How- 
ever, I  don't  mind  saying  that  you  are  the  man  I  mean. 
If  Captain  Brace  will  take  the  trouble  to  remember,  you 
are  the  first  one  that  thought  of  searching  for  the  ring, 
and  told  him  falsely  that  you  had  seen  it  in  the  hands  of 
that  lad  there.  Then,  again,  when  the  chest  had  been 
searched,  and  the  ring  couldn't  be  found,  you  came  for- 
ward and  offered  to  look  for  it  yourself,  and  finally  you  did 
find  it.  That's  all  I've  got  to  say,  only,  if  you  are  not  the 
real  thief  I  am  a  liar,  and  so  is  that  face  of  yours." 


The  Real  Culprit  Discovered.  165 

Carried  away  by  his  rage,  Antonio,  forgetting  the  pru- 
dence which  his  past  experience  might  have  taught  him, 
threw  himself  suddenly  upon  Bill  Sturdy,  and  nearly 
succeeded  in  laying  him  prostrate  upon  the  deck. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


A   STORM   BREWING. 


Antonio's  assault  was  so  unexpected  that  Bill  Sturdy, 
being,  of  course,  quite  unprepared  for  it,  staggered  and 
seemed  about  to  fall.  But,  as  one  who  slips  upon  the  ice 
instinctively  makes  an  effort  to  preserve  his  equilibrium,  so 
Sturdy  immediately  recovered  from  the  momentary  disad- 
vantage, and,  seizing  Antonio  with  both  hands,  threw  him 
to  the  deck  without  any  great  apparent  effort. 

Probably  if  Antonio  had  gained  the  advantage,  Captain 
Brace  would  have  been  in  no  haste  to  put  a  stop  to  the 
conflict.  As  it  was,  his  brows  knit  with  anger  as  he 
exclaimed,  in  a  stentorian  voice : 

"Stop  this  fighting,  you  lubbers !  Don't  you  know  better 
the  respect  which  is  due  to  my  presence  ?  I'll  let  you  know 
that  I  am  not  to  be  insulted  on  my  own  deck." 

"It  wasn't  a  fight  of  my  seeking,  Captain  Brace,"  said 
Bill  eoolly.  "I  ain?t  disposed  to  be  quarrelsome,  and  I 
guess  he  won't  want  to  try  it  again  immediately." 

As  he  said  this  he  glanced  at  Antonio,  who,  sorely  bruised 

by  the  fall,  was  slowly  rising  from  the  deck,  and  slinking 

away  with  a  crestfallen  and  malignant  look.     Had  he  not 

been  moved  by  an  uncontrollable  impulse  of  rage  and  dis- 

166 


A  Storm  Brewing.  167 

appointment,  he  would  scarcely  have  ventured  upon  this 
open  attack,  knowing,  as  had  been  incontestable  proved, 
that  he  was  no  match  for  the  Herculean  strength  o£  Bill 
Sturdy. 

"Silence !"  roared  the  captain,  in  answer  to  Bill's  vindi- 
cation of  himself.  "One  would  think  from  your  maimer 
that  you  were  the  captain  of  this  ship  instead  of  me." 

"If  I  were  the  captain,"  said  Bill,  bluntly,  "I'd  have  that 
man,  pointing  to  Antonio,  "put  ashore  at  the  first  port. 
I  wouldn't  harbor  such  a  rascal  aboard  the  ship." 

"Silence !''  again  thundered  the  captain.  "Don't  you 
know  your  place  ?  If  you  don't,  by  all  the  saints  in  the 
calendar,  I'll  make  you  know  it  before  twenty-four  hours 
have  passed  over  your  head.  Let  me  tell  you  that  I  don't 
require  any  help  in  commanding  this  vessel.  When  I  do, 
I  will  call  on  you.  Till  then,  you  may  keep  your  advice  to 
yourself." 

Bill  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  thought  it  prudent,  on 
the  whole,  to  say  nothing.  Xot  that  he  feared  for  himself. 
He  had  a  good  deal  of  confidence  in  the  strength  with  which 
nature  had  endowed  him,  but  he  feared  that  any  unguarded 
words  of  his  might  incite  the  captain  and  mate  to  visit  new 
hardships  upon  his  young  protege,  Charlie. 

"As  to  the  matter  of  the  ring,"  said  the  captain,  "iny 
mind  is  not  made  up.     Mr.  Ban;1. all,  will  you  attend  me?" 

ri  he  mate  went  below  will)  Captain  Brace. 

After  a  moment's  silence,  the  captain  said:  "I  don't 
like  that  fellow,  Mr.  Randall." 


168  A  Storm  Brewing-. 

''Do  you  mean  Antonio?" 

"No;  this  Sturdy,  who  takes  such  airs  upon  himself." 

"Neither  do  I,"  answered  Eandall  promptly. 

"lie's  a  mutinous  rebel.  I  can  see  it  in  his  eye,"  pursued 
the  captain. 

"I  have  no  doubt  he  would  be  if  he  had  a  good 
opportunity." 

"Perhaps  I  shall  give  him  one/'  said  the  captain  sig- 
nificantly. 

"He's  as  strong  as  a  bull,"  said  the  mate. 

"Yes;  the  fellow  has  fists  like  sledge-hammers,  but 
he  may  use  them  once  too  often.  We  will  speak  of  that 
hereafter.     Now,  what  do  you  think  of  this  robbery?" 

"I  suppose  Antonio  was  the  thief,"  said  Randall  re- 
luctantly. 

"You  think  Sturdy's  story  is  correct?" 

"Yes;  Antonio  is  a  deep  rascal,  though  of  the  two 
I  hate  Sturdy  most." 

"Did  you  suppose  your  nephew  to  be  the  thief  before 
the  latter  told  his  story?" 

"I  did  not." 

"Yet  you  countenanced  the  charge." 

"Because  I  thought  a  flogging  would  do  the  boy  no 
harm." 

"You  don't  seem  to  have  any  great  affection  for  your 
nephew." 

"I  do  not." 

"And  the  reason?" 


A  Storm  Brewing  169 

"Is  simply  this:  The  boy's  mother  jiltea  me,  or, 
rather,  refused  me  outright  when  I  offered  my  hand  in 
marriage." 

"Ha !  that's  where  the  shoe  pinches." 

"You  are  right." 

"Well,  I  don't  care  to  interfere  with  any  little  private 
revenge  you  may  desire  to  take,  as  long  as  it  chimes  in 
with  my  own  purposes.  The  boy  shall  be  flogged  if  you 
wish  it." 

"I  do." 

"Find  some  pretext,  then,  as  long  as  the  charge  of 
robbery  won't  serve." 

"Then,"  said  Eandall,  "you  might  announce  that,  al- 
though the  charge  of  theft  has  not  been  sustained,  he  has 
been  guilty  of  an  offense  that  calls  for  punishment — 
insolence  to  his  officers." 

"That  is  a  good  idea.     And  in  regard  to  Antonio " 

"I  have  no  doubt  the  rascal  stole  the  ring,  and  deserves 
punishment,  but  I  don't  want  him  flogged,  as  it  would 
gratify  Sturdy  too  much." 

"My  own  feeling." 

"You  can  say  that  you  have  been  unable  to  determine 
who  is  guilty  in  the  matter,  and  shall  wait  for  further 
evidence." 

"Very  well  conceived,  Mr.  Eandall.  I  shall  follow  your 
advice,  and  thank  you  for  it." 

"I  am  glad  to  have  been  of  service  to  you,  Captain 
Brace." 


170  A  Storm  Brewing. 

"And  now,  Mr.  Randall,  if  you  will  go  on  deck,  I  wiii  be 

up  presently." 

The  mate  reappeared  on  deck  with  a  satisfied  air,  occa- 
siorfally  looking  with  a  glance  of  triumphant  spite  at 
Charlie,  who  was  standing  beside  his  tried  and  trusty 
friend  Bill  Sturdy. 

"You  don't  know  what's  in  store  for  you,  my  lad,"  ke 
muttered.  "Pity  his  mother  could  not  be  here  to  see 
his  fair  flesh  quivering  under  the  keen  lash.  Her  heart 
Mould  feel  every  stroke.  She  might  repent,  then,  the 
scorn  with  which  she  repelled  the  suit  of  John  Randall. 
How  I  hate  that  boy !  He  brings  up  his  father  before 
me.  So  much  the  better.  When  he  shrinks  beneath  the 
lash,  I  shall  think  it  is  my  old  rival  upon  whom  it  is 
falling." 

Bili  Sturdy,  meanwhile,  said,  in  a  low  voice,  to  Charlie : 

"I  don't  like  the  looks  of  the  mate.  He's  hatching 
mischief  of  some  kind,  if  I'm  not  greatly  mistaken." 

"'Against  us?" 

"That's  what  I  mistrust,  my  iad;  against  one  or  both 
of  us.  He  hates  us  both,  and  I  ain't  quite  sure  which  he 
hates  the  most." 

"And  yet  I  never  did  him  any  injury." 

"Then  he's  done  you  some  harm,  depend  upon  it. 
3  3  hate  worst  those  they  have  injured  most,  and  he'3 
done  you  a  grent  wrong  in  stealing  you  from  home." 

"What  do  you  suppose  made  him  do  that,  Bill?'' 

"He  had  some  private  reason;    there  ain't  a  question 


A  Storm  Brewing.  171 

about  that.  It  wasn't  because  we  were  in  want  of  a  boy. 
W«  might  have  picked  up  plenty  that  would  have  been 
glad  k>  come." 

"I'm  afraid  j^ou'll  get  into  trouble  with  him  for  taking 
my  part/'  said  Charlie,  with  some  anixety. 

•Don't  trouble  yourself  about  me,"  said  Sturdy, 
shrugging  his  shoulders.  "I  ain't  in  any  way  frightened 
by  his  black  looks,  and  if  he  tries  to  do  you  any  mis- 
chief, he'll  find  you've  got  one  friend." 

Before  Charlie  had  an  opportunity  to  reply,  Captain 
Brace  came  on  deck,  and  looked  around  him  with  a 
glanee  that  showed  a  storm  was  brewing. 


CHAPTEE  XXVII. 

THE    LASH. 

"Pipe  all  hands  to  see  punishment  inflicted/'  ordered 
Captain  Brace. 

Charlie  and  Bill  Sturdy  looked  at  each  other,  uncer- 
tain where  the  blow  was  to  fall. 

"It  must  be  Antonio,"  thought  Charlie. 

Evidently  Antonio  was  of  the  same  opinion,  for  over 
his  swarthy  face  there  stole  a  pallor  which  showed  his 
apprehension. 

Such  was  the  understanding  of  the  crew,  also,  as  they 
could  think  of  no  other  wrongdoer.  Little  pity  was 
excited  in  behalf  of  the  supposed  sufferer.  He  had  so 
abused  his  position  when  champion  of  the  crew,  that  he 
had  forfeited  the  good- will  of  all;  and  even  if  this  had 
not  been  the  case,  his  treacherous  and  mean  attempt  to 
bring  Charlie  into  trouble  would  have  been  sufficient 
to  bring  him  into  disfavor. 

The  uncertainty  as  to  the  victim  was  dissipated  by  the 
captain's  next  words. 

"Jack  Bandall,  come  here !" 

Charlie  came  forward. 

"Boy,"  said  Captain  Brace  sternly,  "you  were  guilty 
172 


The  Lash.  173 

of  insolence  to  me  this  morning.  This  shall  never  go 
unpunished  while  I  am  in  command  of  a  vessel.  As  to 
the  ring,  you  may  or  may  not  have  stolen  it.  It  rests 
between  you  and  Antonio.  As  it  cannot  be  proved  of 
either,  neither  will  be  punished  on  this  account." 

Antonio's  sallow  face  lighted  up  with  joy  at  this  un- 
expected escape,  a  joy  which  was  not  reflected  on  the 
faces  of  the  crew. 

"It  is  for  insolence,  therefore,  and  not  on  account  of 
theft,"  pursued  the  captain,  "that  I  sentence  you,  Jack 
Randall,  to  a  dozen  lashes  on  the  bare  back.  Off  with 
your  jacket  I" 

Charlie  was  a  brave  boy,  but  the  prospect  of  this  igno- 
minious punishment  caused  his  cheek  to  pale  and  his  voice 
to  tremble  as  he  exclaimed: 

"Captain  Brace,  if  I  have  been  guilty  of  insolence  or 
want  of  proper  respect  to  you,  it  was  not  intentional.  Do 
not  compel  me  to  submit  to  this  disgraceful  punishment." 

There  was  a  movement  of  sympathy  among  the  crew, 
and  more  than  one  heart  softened  at  the  sight  of  Charlie's 
manly  front,  though  his  lips  quivered,  and  pride  alone 
kept  back  the  tears  from  his  eyes.  Bill  Sturdy  started, 
but  checked  himself,  to  hear  what  the  captain  would  say 
in  response. 

"It  is  too  late,"  he  said  coldly.  "You  should  have 
thought  of  all  that  before  you  indulged  in  insolence." 

"But " 

"It  is  too  late,  I  say,"  roared  the  captain,  irritated. 


174  The  Lash. 

"Strip,  you  young  rascal,  or  you  shall  have  som^  help 
about  it,  and  that  of  a  rough  kind." 

It  seemed  as  if  all  chance  of  escape  was  over  for  poor 
Charlie.  But  at  that  moment  Bill  Sturdy  pressed  for- 
ward, and,  hitching  up  his  trousers,  as  he  was  wont  to  do 
preparatory  to  speaking,  said,  in  a  distinct  tone  of  voice: 
"Captain  Brace." 

"Well?"  said  the  captain.     "What  have  you  to  say?" 

"I  should  like  to  make  a  proposal  to  you,  sir." 

"A  proposal,"  repeated  the  captain,  mystified.  "What 
am  I  to  understand  by  that?" 

"It's  just  this,  Captain  Brace.  You're  the  captain  of 
this  vessel,  and  you've  got  a  right  to  flog  that  boy,  I  sup- 
pose, according  to  the  law." 

"Of  course  I  have,"  said  the  captain  fiercely.  "Do  you 
presume  to  question  that  right?" 

"I  don't  think  proper  to  question  it  just  now,"  said 
Bill;  "but,  Captain  Brace,  just  look  at  that  boy.  Look 
at  his  bright,  honest  face,  and  you  can't  have  the  heart 
to  abuse  him." 

"Abuse  him  !"  exclaimed  the  captain,  stamping  on  the 
deck  in  his  fury;  "say  that  again,  and  I'll  have  you 
flogged  with  him." 

"It  was  something  of  that  kind  that  I  was  going  to 
propose,"  said  Bill  Sturdy. 

Captain  Brace  stared  at  him  in  astonishment,  a  feeling 
which  was  shared  by  the  crcwi 


The  Lash.  175 

"If  you  want  to  be  flogged,"  said  the  captain  grimly, 
"we  will  try  to  accommodate  you." 

"It  is  in  this  way  that  I  mean,"  exclaimed  Bill.  "I've 
taken  a  liking  to  that  lad,  and  I've  promised  him  I'll 
stand  his  friend.  Now,  Captain  Brace,  if  somebody  must 
be  flogged,  spare  him,  and  flog  me  in  his  place." 

Surprise  was  depicted  on  every  face,  and  the  sun- 
burned and  rough-visaged  men  about  him  felt  an  in- 
voluntary thrill  of  respect  and  admiration,  as  Sturdy 
manfully  came  forward  and  offered  his  own  back  to  the 
punishment,  which  is  properly  regarded  as  an  insult  to 
manhood,  though  the  disgrace  attaches  not  to  the  one 
who  endures,  but  to  the  one  who  inflicts  it. 

Charlie  was   the   first   to   speak.      His  generous   heart 
revolted    at    the    idea    of    escaping    punishment    at    the 
i  of  his  friend. 

"No,  Bill  Sturdy,"  said  he  manfully,  "I  don't  want 
you  to  suffer  in  my  place.  It'll  be  hard  to  boar  it."  and 
his  lip  quivered;  "but  it  would  be  weak  and  cowardly 
for  mo  to  let  anybody  else  suffer  in  my  plan'." 

Charlie  began  to  take  off  his  jacket. 

tere   was   a   murmuring  among   the  crew,   testifying 
to     h<      \  itement  which  they  felt. 

"Fui  on  your  jacket,  my  lad,"  said  Bill.  "I'm  older 
and  tougher  than  you,  and  1  can  bear  it  better." 

And    the   stout   seaman    pulled  off  his  shirt,  and   dis- 
brawny  shoulders,  and  a  chest  whose  breadth 


176  The  Lash. 

and  depth  betokened  a  strength  which  could  not  be  styled 
less  than  Herculean. 

Antonio  looked  on,  his  eyes  blazing  with  vindictive 
joy.  Whichever  was  flogged,  his  satisfaction  would  be 
equal. 

"Hark  you !"  exclaimed  Captain  Brace,  interfering  at 
this  juncture.  "I  think  that  I  shall  choose  to  have  a  voice 
in  this  matter.  So  you  wish/'  turning  to  Sturdy,  "to 
relieve  this  boy  of  his  punishment,  do  you?" 

"I  do,"  said  the  old  seaman. 

"I  don't  want  him  to,"  interrupted  Charlie.  "It  is 
mine,  and  I  will  bear  it." 

"It  seems  the  parties  are  not  agreed,"  said  the  captain 
sardonically. 

"Spare  him,"  said  Bill  Sturdy,  his  eyes  resting  affec- 
tionately on  Charlie.    "He  is  so  young." 

"Perhaps  the  best  way  in  which  I  can  please  you  both 
is  to  divide  the  punishment  between  }^ou.  I  had  sentenced 
this  lad  to  receive  twelve  lashes.  Since  you  wish  to  do 
him  a  service,  you  shall  receive  six,  and  he  the  other  six." 

"I  do  not  consent,"  said  Sturdy,  comprehending  the 
captain's  purpose  to  humiliate  both.  "If  his  back  is  to 
receive  a  single  lash,  my  offer  will  not  save  him  from  the 
disgrace,  and  that  is  worse  than  the  pain." 

At  this  juncture  the  mate  whispered  something  in  the 
captain's  ear.  The  face  of  the  latter  lighted  up  with 
satisfaction,  and  his  next  words  revealed  the  nature  of 
the  mate's  suggestion. 


The  Lash.  177 

"I  consent  to  the  substitution,"  he  said,  and  then 
paused. 

Bill  Sturdy's  face  glowed  with  generous  satisfaction, 
and  with  heroic  forgetfulness  of  self,  he  began  to  strip 
for  punishment. 

A  moment,  and  his  back,  broad  and  ample,  was  bared, 
and  the  thick,  corded  muscles  could  be  seen. 

"Antonio,  come  forward,"  said  Captain  Brace. 

Antonio  advanced  amid  the  general  surprise  of  the 
crew,  and  somewhat  to  his  own,  and  stood  still,  awaiting 
orders. 

"Now,"  said  Captain  Brace,  his  tone  showing  his 
malignant  satisfaction,  "I  appoint  you  as  my  deputy  to 
administer  twelve  lashes  to  this  man;  mind  that  you 
don't  spare  him." 

Antonio  did  not  need  this  injunction.  His  eyes  were 
full  of  fiendish  triumph,  as  he  seized  the  instrument  of 
torture,  and  flourished  it  above  his  head. 

As  for  Bill  Sturdy,  when  he  knew  that  Antonio  was 
to  be  employed  to  inflict  punishment  upon  him,  this 
refinement  of  torture  shook  his  resolution  for  a  moment. 
It  was,  indeed,  the  bitterest  drop  in  the  cup.  But  not 
for  an  instant  did  his  resolution  falter.  He  would  save 
Charlie  at  all  hazards.  He  quickly  recovered  himself, 
and  said  in  a  firm  voice: 

"I  am  ready." 

Instantly  the  lash  was  whirled  aloft,  and  buried  itself 
in  his  flesh. 


178  The  Lash. 

There  was  a  quiver,  and  that  was  all. 

One — two — three — four 

In  fast  succession  the  blows  fell  upon  his  flesh,  he 
meanwhile  standing  firmly  braced,  though  his  cheek  waa 
paler  than  its  wont. 

Charlie's  heart  sickened,  and  he  closed  his  eyes  to  shut 
out  the  fearful  spectacle, 

As  for  Antonio,  he  seemed  to  revel  in  the  task  which 
had  been  assigned  him.  His  eyes  fairly  danced  with  bale- 
ful light,  and  he  seemed  almost  beside  himself.  It  was 
this,  perhaps,  that  led  him  to  exceed  by  one  the  strokes 
which  he  had  been  ordered  to  administer. 

A  moment  after  and  the  lash  was  wrested  from  him  by 
Bill  Sturdy,  who  threw  him  to  the  deck,  and  with  one 
powerful  grasp  tore  the  covering  from  his  back,  and 
buried  the  lash  which  had  seared  his  own  back  in  the 
flesh  of  his  late  executioner,  who,  with  face  distorted 
with  fright  and  pain,  roared  for  mercy. 

"That  is  to  pay  for  the  blow  you  struck  on  your  own 
!  at,  you  scoundrel,"  exclaimed  Sturdy.     "And  now," 

as   the   las!  •    once  more  with  prodigious  force, 

and  the  victim  fairly  writhed  under  it,  "you  are  one  in 
my  debt." 


CHAPTEE  XXVIII. 

TWO    CONFERENCES. 

So  strongly  were  the  sympathies  of  the  crew  with! 
Sturdy,  more  especially  since  he  had  shown  himself 
capable  of  such  disinterested  and  heroic  self-sacrifice,  and 
so  decidedly  were  their  feelings  enlisted  against  Antonio, 
who  acted  like  a  fiend  rather  than  a  man  in  the  execution 
of  the  welcome  duty  assigned  him  by  the  captain,  that 
this  sudden  turning  of  the  tables,  the  summary  revenge 
taken  by  Bill  Sturdy  in  return  for  the  additional  blow 
Antonio  had  inflicted,  was  greeted  with  a  triumphant 
shout  from  the  sailors,  which  seemed  to  spring  from  them 
spontaneously. 

Captain  Brace  bit  his  lip,  and  Randall's  face  darkened 
with  rage.  They  felt  that  the  humiliation  which  they 
had  intended  for  Bill  Sturdy  had  recoiled  upon  the  head 
of  their  own  agent. 

The  worst  of  it  was  they  could  not  prudently  resent  it. 
Antonio  had  in  the  eyes  of  all  been  guilty  of  a  glaring 
offense  in  exceeding  his  orders,  and  had  justly  brought 
upon  himself  the  punishment  he  had  received.  However, 
the  justice  or  injustice  of  the  matter  would  have  weighed 
little  with  Captain  Brace  if  he  had  not  been  assured  that 
179 


180  Two  Conferences. 

it  would  not  be  safe  for  him  to  go  further.  The  law 
gave  almost  unlimited  power  to  the  commander  of  a 
vessel  over  the  lives  and  liberties  of  those  who  were  placed 
under  him,  yet  most  were  aware  that  there  was  a  point 
at  which  it  was  wise  to  pause.  At  the  commencement  of 
the  scene,  there  had  been  audible  murmurs  among  the 
crew,  the  significance  of  which  the  captain  and  mate 
would  understand.  The  habit  of  subordination,  and  the 
knowledge  that  this  was  in  a  certain  sense  a  voluntary 
act  on  the  part  of  Bill  Sturdy,  had  prevented  anything 
more,  but  if  the  captain  had  gone  to  greater  extremities, 
the  consequences  might  have  been  serious. 

Meanwhile  Antonio  picked  himself  up,  smarting  under 
the  terrible  wounds  which  had  been  inflicted  by  the  lash 
wielded  with  the  whole  of  Bill  Sturdy's  enormous  strength. 
Indeed,  although  he  had  received  but  two  stripes,  and  his 
enemy  thirteen,  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  pain  in- 
flicted by  those  two  were  not  equal  to  that  of  the  greater 
number. 

Antonio  had  slunk  down  into  the  forecastle  to  bathe  his 
back  and  obtain  fresh  clothes,  for  his  shirt  had  been  rent 
asunder.  Bill  Sturdy,  on  the  other  hand,  proceeded  to 
attire  himself  on  deck  and  went  about  his  work,  without 
showing  outwardly  the  pain  which  he  must  have  been 
suffering. 

Captain  Brace  took  no  public  notice  of  the  retribution 
which  had  followed  the  punishment.  He  didn't  dare  to 
act  as  he  wished,   and,  therefore,  chose  to  pass  it  un- 


Two  Conferences.  181 

noticed.  But  an  hour  afterward,  as  he  sat  in  conference 
with  the  mate,  his  fury  burst  the  bounds  he  had  imposed 
upon  it. 

"Curse  that  fellow !"  he  exclaimed.  "Is  he  forever 
destined  to  thwart  my  designs?  I  felt  that  I  could  will- 
ingly have  flogged  him  myself  till  the  last  breath  left 
his  body." 

"It  is  a  pity  Antonio  ventured  to  exceed  his  orders." 

"Yes,  the  fool  was  richly  repaid  for  his  act,  but  I  could 
wish  it  had  been  by  a  different  hand. 

"That  extra  blow  gave  Sturdy  a  pretext  for  his  sum- 
mary vengeance.  But  for  that  his  conduct  could  have 
been  construed  into  mutiny  and  disrespect  to  you." 

"And  then  I  might  have  put  him  in  irons." 

"You  might  do  it  now,  but  for " 

"But  for  the  crew,  you  would  say.  That  alone  prevents 
me.  The  fellow,  unluckily,  has  secured  their  sympathy. 
Would  that  I  could  devise  some  way  for  taking  vengeance 
safely  upon  this  rebellious  scoundrel." 

The  mate  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand,  and  gave 
himself  up  to  reflection.  Something  occurred  to  him,  for, 
lifting  his  head  again,  he  asked : 

"Have  you  ever  been  in  Eio  Janeiro,  Captain  Brace?" 

"Never  but  once,  and  that  some  nine  or  ten  years  ago." 

"There  are  desperadoes  in  that  city,  as  in  others,"  pur- 
sued Randall,  fixing  his  eyes  intently  upon  the  captain. 

"I  do  not  quite  catch  your  meaning,  Mr.  Randall." 

"Men  who  are  little  troubled  by  conscientious  scruples, 


188  Two  Conferences. 

but  are  willing  to  undertake  the  most  dangerous  and 
illegal    enterprises — for   small   consideration." 

"I  begin  to  understand  you  now,"  said  the  captain. 

"Shall  I  proceed?" 

"Do  so." 

The  mate  rightly  construed  this  into  an  intimation  that 
his  proposition,  though  hinting  at  crime,  would  not  prove 
distasteful  to  the  captain.  This,  knowing  the  character  of 
his  superior  officer,  did  not  surprise  him,  and  he  proceeded. 

"I  think  you  apprehend  my  meaning,  Captain  Brace. 
This  man  is  a  thorn  in  our  sides.  He  is  exerting  a  bad 
influence  on  board  the  ship.  He  is  undermining  your 
influence  with  the  crew." 

''That  is  all  true,  Mr.  Randall.  What,  then,  is  your 
advice  in  this  state  of  affairs  ?" 

"My  advice  is,  that  this  fellow  should  be  removed." 

"To  a  place  better  fitted  for  him,"  suggested  the  captain, 
with  a  grim  smile. 

"Precisely  so." 

"And  through  the  agency  of  such  men  as  you  have 
spoken  of?" 

"That  is  my  proposition." 

"It  deserves  thinking  of.  May  I  ask  if  you  have  any 
acquaintance  among  the  fraternity,  or  whether  you  have 
ever  had  any  occasion  to  employ  their  services?" 

"I  did  on  one  occasion." 

"Do  you  mind  giving  the  particulars  ?" 

"To  you,  no.     Some  years  since  I  shipped  as  common 


Two  Conferences.  183 

Bailor  on  board  the  Porcupine,  bound  from  New  York  to 
Eio.  On  the  voyage  one  of  the  sailors  on  several  occasions 
insulted  me,  and  I  determined  upon  revenge.  At  Rio  I  fell 
in  with  a  desperate  character,  who  for  a  comparatively  small 
sum  engaged  to  do  my  bidding." 

"Well." 

"There  is  not  much  to  tell.  One  night  this  man  was 
passing  through  a  narrow  street,  quite  unsuspicious  of 
danger,  when  he  was  suddenly  struck  from  behind  by  a 
bludgeon,  and — he  never  came  bach  to  the  ship." 

"Did  no  suspicion  attach  to  you  ?" 

"How  should  there?  Who  was  to  betray  me?  Not  my 
agent,  or  in  so  doing  he  would  betray  himself.  This  is 
the  first  time  I  have  ever  spoken  of  it,  but  I  am  safe  with 
you." 

"Perfectly.    You  say  the  consideration  was  small." 

"Fifty  dollars  only.  I  dare  say  the  fellow  considered 
himself  well  paid.  Besides  he  took  whatever  his  victim 
had  about  him." 

"Thank  you  for  the  suggestion,  Mr.  Randall.  I  will 
furnish  the  money,  if  you  will  undertake  the  management 
of  the  business  when  we  reach  Rio." 

"With  pleasure,"  replied  the  mate,  and  he  probably  spoke 
the  truth. 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on  Charlie  in  another 
part  of  the  vessel  was  commiserating  Bill  Sturdy  on  his 
injuries. 


184  Two  Conferences. 

"And  it  was  on  my  account,  too,"  said  the  boy,  regret- 
fully. 

"Better  me  than  you,  my  lad,"  said  the  old  sailor  stoutly. 
"Don't  trouble  yourself  about  that.  It  was  my  own  free 
will,  and  if  I  had  been  unwilling  all  the  power  of  the  cap- 
tain couldn't  have  made  me  submit  to  it.  Besides  there 
was  one  thing  that  repaid  me  for  it  all.  Antonio  got  some- 
thing he'll  remember  to  the  latest  day  of  his  life,  I  reckon. 
However,  that  ain't  what  I  want  to  say  now.  It's  just  this : 
I  haven't  any  particular  inducements  to  stay  aboard  this 
vessel,  and  I've  about  made  up  my  mind  to  give  them  the 
slip  at  the  first  port  we  come  to,  if  you'll  go  with  me." 

"Where  do  we  touch  first?" 

"At  Eio,  I  surmise." 

"I'm  ready  to  go  with  you,  Bill,  whenever  you  say  the 
word,"  said  Charlie  promptly. 

"That's  right,  my  lad." 

And  so  the  agreement  was  made. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

DANGER  THREATENS  BILL  STURDY. 

It  is  my  intention  to  pass  rapidly  over  the  time  which 
intervened  between  the  events  which  have  been  described 
and  the  arrival  of  the  Bouncing  Betsy  at  Eio  Janeiro. 
Nothing  happened  of  sufficient  interest  to  call  for  record. 

As  for  Charlie  Codman  and  Bill  Sturdy,  their  position 
was,  unquestionably,  more  agreeable  and  less  disturbed  by- 
incidents  than  before.  This  was  not  owing  to  any  change 
in  the  feelings  of  the  captain  and  mate,  but  in  consequence 
of  the  iniquitous  compact  into  which  they  had  entered. 
They  felt  secure  of  ultimate  vengeance;  they  could,  there' 
fore,  afford  to  wait.  Indeed,  they  felt  that  they  should  be 
more  likely  to  secure  the  end  they  had  in  view  if,  for  the 
present,  they  should  so  act  as  to  lull  to  sleep  any  suspicions 
which  might  be  entertained  of  their  agency  in  the  affair 
after  it  was  over. 

But  Bill  Sturdy  was  not  deceived.  He  determined  to 
keep  his  "weather-eye  open,"  as  he  expressed  it,  and  be  on 
the  lookout  for  squalls. 

So  the  time  passed. 

It  was  a  bright,  tropical  day.     The  thick  garments  which 
all  had  worn  on  leaving  port  were  laid  aside,  and  every  one 
was  dressed  in  light  and  thin  attire. 
185 


186  Danger  Threatens  Bill  Sturdy. 

"We  shall  probably  reach  Eio  to-morrow,  Mr.  Randall," 
observed  the  captain. 

"Yes;  if  the  present  wind  holds,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
of  it." 

"And  the  little  plan  which  we  have  been  contemplating 
need  no  longer  be  delayed." 

Randall  smiled  acquiescence. 

The  wind  held  favorable,  and  the  next  evening  saw  them 
in  port. 

The  captain  and  mate  went  on  shore,  leaving  the  vessel 
in  charge  of  the  second  mate. 

We.  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  motions  of  the  captain, 
but  will  follow  Randall,  who,  never  backward  in  ill-doing, 
at  once  set  about  the  execution  of  his  scheme. 

Having  been  in  the  city  before,  he  was  well  acquainted 
with  localities,  and,  therefore,  was  able  to  direct  his  steps  at 
once  to  that  quarter  where  he  felt  he  was  most  likely  to 
meet  the  man  he  was  in  quest  of. 

He  entered  a  low  drink  ing-saloon,  and  ordered  a  glass  of 
liquor,  partly  to  gratify  his  taste,  partly  that  while  drinking 
he  might  have  leisure  to  look  about  him. 

It  was  a  low,  square  room,  dark  and  unsightly,  frequented 
evidently  by  the  lowest  ranks  only.  At  this  time  there  was 
but  one  man  present  besides  Randall. 

This  man  was  tall,  low-browed,  with  shaggy,  black  eye- 
brows, and  a  face  on  which  villainy  was  stamped  in  Nature's 
plainest  and  most  ineffaceable  characters. 

"There's  a  man,"  thought  the  mate,  "that  will  serve  my 


Danger  Threatens  Bill  Sin  187 

turn,  and,  to  judge  from  his  looks,  will  be  troubled  by  no 
unnecessary  scruples  on  the  subject." 

Meanwhile,  the  other,  lifting  his  eyes  from  the  glass, 
had  observed  Eandall's  close  scrutiny,  and  chose  to  take 
©ffense  at  it.  He  rose  from  his  seat,  and,  advancing  toward 
Randall,  observed,  in  a  menacing  tone : 

"It  appears  to  me,  seiior,  that  you  are  impertinent." 

Eandall  understood  the  language  in  which  this  was 
spoken,  and  coolly  inquired: 

"How  so?" 

"You  have  been  staring  at  me  as  if  you  had  some  par- 
ticular object  in  it." 

"So  I  have,"  returned  the  mate,  in  the  same  tone  as 
before. 

"Explain  yourself  sefior,  and  if,  as  I  mistrust,  you  mean 
to  insult  me,  I  will  make  you  better  acquainted  with  my 
geod  knife,"  and  he  tapped  the  knife  significantly. 

"It  is  an  acquaintance  which  I  do  not  court,"  said 
Sandall,  shrugging  his  shoulders.  "But  it  appears  to  me 
that  it  is  not  well  talking  without  something  to  moisten  the 
$»oat.     I  shall  be  happy  to  have  you  drink  with  me." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  seiior,  for  my  suspicions,  which,  I 
Bee.  were  wrong.  I  see  that  you  are  a  gentleman.  Hence- 
lorth  I  will  treat  you  as  such." 

"I  thought  you  would  learn  to  know  me  better,"  said 
BandaR,  filling  both  glasses;  "let  me  drink  to  our  better 
acquaintance." 


188  Danger  Threatens  Bill  Sturdy. 

Both  sat  down  very  amicably.  The  glass  had  made  them, 
friends. 

"I  should  like  to  ask  your  advice  on  a  certain  point/' 
said  Eandall. 

"I  will  give  it  with  pleasure." 

"I  have  an  enemy — a  deadly  foe — whom  I  detest.  What 
would  you  do  if  you  were  in  my  place  ?" 

"You  say  he  is  your  deadly  foe?" 

"Yes." 

"I  would  give  him  a  passport  to  another  world.  That  is 
my  advice." 

"And  you  would  feel  no  compunctions?" 

"No  more  than  if  I  were  crushing  a  spider." 

"I  will  own,  then,"  said  Eandall,  "that  I  have  thought 
of  this,  but  it  is  difficult  for  me  to  act  in  the  matter-." 

"Then  hire  another  to  do  it." 

"Ah,  if  I  could  only  find  some  brave  man  who  would 
undertake  the  job." 

"Well?" 

"I  would  engage  him  to  do  it  for  me,  if " 

"Well?" 

"If  we  could  agree  upon  the  terms." 

"You  need  seek  no  farther  for  your  man,  then,"  said 
the  stranger,  gulping  down  another  glass. 

"How  is  that?"  asked  Eandall,  pretending  not  to  under- 
stand him  fully. 

"Because  you  see  before  you  one  who  is  willing  to 
undertake  it." 


Danger  Threatens  Bill  Sturdy.  189 

"You?" 

"And  why  not  ?" 

"Certainly,  there  is  no  good  reason." 

"Now  tell  me  about  it." 

"First,  let  us  settle  about  the  price  to  be  paid." 

"As  you  please." 

After  some  little  discussion  this  was  finally  fixed  at  sixty 
dollars.  For  this  paltry  sum,  added  to  the  booty  which  he 
might  find  upon  the  person  of  his  victim,  this  miserable 
man  was  willing  to  commit  one  of  the  worst  of  crimes. 

"Now,"  continued  the  mate,  "I  must  give  you  some 
directions  which  will  enable  you  to  identify  the  person." 

"Is  he  a  sailor  ?" 

"He  is." 

"On  board  what  ship  ?" 

"The  Bouncing  Betsy." 

"Lying  where  ?" 

Randall  indicated  the  wharf  at  which  the  vessel  was 
moored. 

"Now  describe  the  man." 

"He  is  rather  below  the  common  height,  broad-shoul- 
dered, extraordinarily  strong;  in  fact,  such  a  Hercules  that 
it  will  be  well  for  you  to  take  him  by  surprise." 

"This  will  make  me  equal  with  him,"  said  the  Brazilian, 
displaying  his  knife. 

"That  and  the  darkness." 

"When  shall  I  be  likely  to  meet  him?" 

"He  will  receive  permission  to  come  on  shore  to-morrow 


190  Danger  Threatens  Bill  Sturd} 

paid  Randall.  "You  must  be  hovering  abui  ->  ^ 
vessel,  and  watch  the  sailors  as  they  come  from  the  7**»t. 
When  you  see  him,  you  will  follow  him." 

"Trust  me  for  that." 

"And  when  all  is  over,  and  you  furnish  me  evidence  that 
you  have  done  the  deed,  the  money  shall  be  yours." 

"I  require  a  portion  in  advance.  How  do  I  know  but 
you  will  play  me  false?" 

"My  good  friend,  I  should  expect,  in  that  case,  to  become 
your  victim.  However,  your  request  is  reasonable.  You 
shall  have  one-third  of  the  sum  stipulated  in  advance." 

Tie  placed  twenty  dollars  in  the  hands  of  his  companion, 
and,  rising,  .     lie  then  betook  himself  to  the 

ship,  and,  on  the  arrival  of  Captain  Erace,  acquainted  him 
with  the  result  of  his  visit.  The  latter  expressed  great 
satisfaction. 

Meanwhile,  Bill  Sturdy  and  Charlie  were  speaking  of  the 
plan  they  had  in  view — that  of  escaping  from  the  ship. 

"Suppose,"  said  Charlie,  "we  cannot  obtain  permission 
to  go  on  shore  together." 

"Then  I  will  come  to  the  wharf  at  midnight,  and  you 
can  leave  your  bunk  unobserved  and  join  me." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE    PASS    OF    DEATH. 

"Have  I  permission  to  go  on  shore,  Captain    Bra< 
Inquired  Bill  Sturdy  on  the  following  morning. 

"I  shall  require  your  services  on  board  during  the  day/' 
said  the  captain,  acting  in  accordance  with  the  suggestion 
and  arrangements  of  the  mate.  "At  nightfall  you  can  go 
if  you  like." 

Charlie,  learning  from  Bill  Sturdy,  the  result  of  his 
application,  did  not  prefer  a  request  till  evening.  His 
request  was  unceremoniously  refused.  The  captain  had 
bo  desire  that  the  boy  should  be  present  at  the  assault 
upon  Bill,  as  his  presence  might  prevent  the  attack  being 
jaade,  and  its  success,  in  consequence  of  Sturdy's  great 
strength,  depended  on  its  unexpectedness. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Bill,  in  a  low  voice,  "wait  till  mid- 
night. Meanwhile,  I  will  be  seeking  out  a  proper  place 
of  concealment.  When  the  cathedral  clock  strikes  mid- 
night, rise  quietly  and  take  a  bundle  of  clothes,  if  you  can 
do  it  unobserved,  and  jump  upon  the  wharf.  I  will  be 
waiting  for  you." 

Cheered  by  this  hope,  Charlie  was  content  to  wait. 

He  went  below,  and  opening  his  chest,   put  together 
in  a  bundle  the  clothes  which  he  had  on  when  he  went 
191 


192  The  Pass  of  Death. 

on  board  the  vessel  for  the  first  time.  His  little  prepara- 
tion having  now  been  made,  he  sat  down  and  commenced 
a  letter  to  his  mother  which  it  was  his  purpose  to  mail  in 
the  city,  to  be  completed  when  the  result  of  his  attempt 
to  escape  should  be  known. 

We  must  now  follow  the  movements  of  the  villain  with 
whom  Randall  had  conferred.  He  had  no  idea  of  failing 
to  carry  out  his  part  of  the  contract.  Aside  from  the 
pecuniary  inducement,  his  savage  temper  and  utter  want 
of  principle,  made  him  rather  court  such  adventures,  even 
for  their  own  sake.  Just  before  nightfall  he  stationed 
himself  at  a  point  on  the  wharf  where  he  would  have  an 
opportunity   of    observing   all   who   went   on   board    the 


AVith  his  keen  eyes  he  scrutinized  the  forms  of  the 
sailors  with  a  view  of  verifying  Randall's  description,  and 
so  picking  out  the  one  who  was  destined  to  be  his  victim. 
Circumstances  conspired  to  lead  him  to  a  wrong  con- 
clusion upon  this  point. 

Bill  Sturdy,  was,  at  that  time,  below,  making  prepara- 
tions to  go  on  shore.  It  has  already  been  remarked,  that 
previous  to  Bill's  enrolment  among  the  crew,  Antonio  had 
been,  physically,  the  most  powerful  among  them.  Al- 
though inferior  to  Bill  Sturdy,  }^et  he  possessed  a  for- 
midable amount  of  strength,  and  on  board  most  vessels 
might  have  challenged  comparison  with  any.  But  if 
Antonio  was  one  in  a  hundred,  Sturdy  was  one  in  a 
thousaatk 


The  Pass  of  Death.  193 

Antonio  was,  in  form,  not  altogether  unlike  Bill  Sturdy. 
At  all  events,  the  resemblance  was  so  great  that  the  mate's 
description  of  Sturdy  might  easily  be  supposed  to  apply 
to  him.  Hence,  when  the  Brazilian  cast  a  scrutinizing 
glance  over  the  persons  of  the  crew,  he  at  once  selected 
Antonio  as  the  one  intended. 

"That  is  the  fellow,"  he  muttered.  "He  looks  power- 
ful, but  my  good  knife  will  prevent  his  being  dangerous 
to  me,  provided  I  steal  upon  him  from  behind,  and  give 
him  one  sharp,  decisive  blow." 

Bill  Sturdy  was  not  the  only  one  permitted  to  go  on 
shore  that  evening.  Several  others  had  similar  permis- 
sion extended  to  them,  leaving  behind  only  enough  to 
keep  the  proper  watch  on  board  the  vessel. 

A  company,  including  Antonio,  left  the  vessel  together 
some  five  minutes  before  Bill  Sturdy  made  his  appearance. 
The  Brazilian,  fixing  his  attention  upon  Antonio,  followed 
them  at  a  little  distance,  cautiously  avoiding  the  appear- 
ance of  doing  so,  lest  he  might  attract  observation.  He 
did  not  expect  to  carry  out  his  design  at  present,  partly 
because  it  was  not  yet  dark,  and  partly  also  because  he 
wished  to  wait  till  Antonio  was  alone.  He  was  resolved 
to  keep  him  in  view,  for  hours,  if  need  be,  until  a  favorable 
opportunity  should  present  itself  for  the  commission  of 
the  crime  he  meditated. 

The  first  place  which  the  men  visited  was  a  low 
drinking-saloon,   situated   on  a   street   considered   hardly 


194  The  Pass  of  Death. 

reputable.  It  was  not  long  before  they  became  noisy 
and  drunk. 

One  by  one  they  staggered  out  of  the  drinking-saloon. 
Among  the  last  to  go  was  Antonio.  He  had  probably 
drank  more  than  any  of  his  comrades,  but  he  had  a  strong 
head,  and  showed  his  potations  less  in  his  gait  than  many 
of  the  rest.  He  walked  out  with  a  steady  step,  somewhat 
to  the  disappointment  of  the  Brazilian,  who  had  been 
keeping  vigilant  guard,  and  relied  upon  the  effects  of  the 
liquor  to  make  him  an  easier  conquest. 

It  was  already  dark,  but  the  street  was  too  public,  and 
he  would  be  too  liable  to  interruption  and  detection  to 
make  it  prudent  to  attack  at  present.  He,  therefore, 
cautiously  followed  Antonio,  hoping  that  he  would  pres- 
ently turn  into  some  narrow  laue  or  alley. 

In  this  hope  he  was  not  disappointed.  At  a  little  dis- 
tance there  was  a  narrow  alley  leading  from  the  street 
in  which  Antonio  was  now  walking  to  another  of  equal 
size.  Antonio  stood  a  little  doubtful  at  the  entrance,  but 
finally  entered.  If  he  had  only  known  that  there  was 
one  close  upon  Iris  heels  who  was  tracking  him  with  the 
keenness  of  an  Indian  he  might  have  hesitated  before 
entering  what,  to  him,  was  destined  to  prove  "the  pass 
of  death." 

The  alley  was  a  long  one,  little  frequented  at  that  hour, 
and  unlighted.  Cautiously  behind  the  doomed  sailor 
walked  the  hired  assassin.  And  now  Antonio  is  nearly 
midway.     Between  them  there  is  a  distance  of  fifty  feet. 


The  Pass  of  Death.  195 

Over  this  interval  creeps  the  murderer  with  noiseless  feet. 
Then,  snatching  the  ever-ready  knife  from  his  girdle,  he 
lifts  his  hand,  and  the  descending  knife  is  buried  in  the 
back  of  Antonio,  entering  just  below  the  neck.  He  sank 
to  the  ground  with  a  convulsive  shudder,  and  a  sharp  cry 
of  pain. 

The  Brazilian  stood  over  him.  Antonio  looked  up  into 
his  face,  supposing  it  might  be  Bill  Sturdy,  whose  enmity 
he  judged  by  his  own. 

Half-lifting  himself  from  the  ground  with  his  last 
remaining  strength,  he  ejaculated  feebly,  "Were  you  hired 
to  do  this  ?" 

"I  was,"  said  the  assassin. 

Antonio  could  have  but  one  thought  as  to  the  one  who 
had  instigated  the  murder.  He  was  satisfied  it  was  Bill, 
and  that  thought  made  death  doubly  bitter. 

Quickly  stripping  his  victim  of  whatever  he  had  about 
him  worth  taking,  his  murderer  crept  away. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Charlie's  escape. 

Randall  had  made  an  appointment  to  meet  his  agent 
at  midnight  at  the  place  where  they  originally  met 

Some  ten  minutes  before  the  hour  he  entered,  and  found 
the  Brazilian  seated  at  a  table  with  a  bottle  before  him. 

"I  am  here  first,"  said  the  latter  nonchalantly,  as  he 
laid  down  a  glass  which  he  had  drained. 

"So  it  seems,"  said  Randall.  "And  now,  what  suc- 
cess?" he  asked  eagerly. 

"The  best." 

"You  have " 

"I  have  earned  my  reward." 

"Good !"  exclaimed  the  mate,  his  eyes  flashing  with 
revengeful  malice. 

"And  now,"  said  the  assassin  coolly,  "I  am  ready  to 
receive  my  pay." 

"You  shall  have  it  as  soon  as  you  prove  to  me  that 
you  have  stated  the  truth." 

"Do  you  dare  to  doubt  my  word?"  said  the  Brazilian 
fiercely. 

"Not  at  all" 


Charlie's  Escape.  197 

"Why,  then,  do  you  demand  this  proof?  Have  I  not 
told  you?" 

'"Because,"  said  Randall,  "you  must  know,  that  in  this 
matter  I  am  the  agent  of  another,  and  that  the  money 
with  which  I  pay  you  is  not  mine,  but  only  what  he  has 
intrusted  to  me." 

"Well  ?" 

"You  will  easily  understand  that,  though  I  may  be  per- 
fectly satisfied  with  your  assurance,  he  is  a  different 
person.  He  has  never  met  you,  and  may  very  reasonably 
require  some  proof  that  the  deed  has  been  done." 

"Would  you  know  the  hair  of  this  man?"  asked  the 
Brazilian. 

"I  should." 

The  murderer  drew  from  his  bosom  a  lock  of  hair 
which  he  had  severed  from  the  head  of  his  victim. 

Randall  looked  at  it  eagerly,  turned  pale,  and  uttered 
an  exclamation  of  mingled  surprise  and  dismay. 

"You  have  made  a  great  mistake,"  he  said. 

"A  mistake !"  echoed  the  other. 

"Yes,"  said  Randall;  "you  must  have  killed  the  wrong 
man !" 

"What  makes  you  think  so?" 

"Because  the  hair  should  be  sandy.    This  is  black." 

"Beware,"  said  the  assassin  suspiciously,  "how  you  at- 
tempt to  trick  me  out  of  my  reward.  The  knife  which 
has  drunk  the  blood  of  one  can,  on  occasion,  do  the  same 
tiling  for  another." 


198  Charlie's  Escape. 

"Your  suspicions  are  unjust/'  said  the  mate.  "In  any 
event,  you  are  welcome  to  what  you  have  already  received, 
and  we  must  enter  upon  a  new  contract  for  the  other." 

"Umph !"  muttered  his  companion,  only  half-appeased. 

"And  now  let  us  go  and  see  who  has  been  the  victim 
©f  this  unlucky  mistake." 

Together  they  proceeded  cautiously  to  the  alley  where 
the  sailor  yet  lay,  cold  and  rigid,  his  face  wearing  the 
look  of  dark,  sullen  hatred  and  ferocity  which  had  been 
habitual  to  it  in  life. 

"Good  heavens !"  exclaimed  Bandall.  "This  is  An- 
tonio." 

"Is  it  not  the  man  you  intended  ?" 

"No;  it  is  his  deadly  foe.  But  what  a  fearful  look 
he  wears  in  death.    Was  there  any  struggle?" 

"No;   he  had  no  chance." 

"You  did  not  kill  him  instantly?" 

"He  had  time  to  ask  a  question." 

"What  was  it?" 

"He  asked  if  I  had  been  hired  to  murder  him." 

"And  you  answered " 

"Yes." 

"Did  you  tell  him  by  whom  you  were  hired?" 

"I  had  no  opportunity.  He  had  just  strength  to  ask 
tfoe  question,  and  then  died." 

"He  supposed  it  to  be  another,"  said  Randall.  Uut 
it  can't  be  helped,  and  we  may  as  well  leave  this  place, 


Charlie's  Escape.  199 

or  we  may  incur  suspicion.  I  don't  know  that  I  care 
much  for  the  mistake.    He  was  an  ugly  fellow." 

"About  the  other?" 

"If  you  will  be  on  the  wharf  to-morrow  morning,  I 
will  take  care  that  the  man  is  on  deck.  You  could  not 
fail  to  recognize  him,  but  to  avoid  all  mistake,  I  will 
go  forward  and  speak  to  him." 

"And  am  I  to  receive  no  more  than  twenty  dollars  for 
what  I  have  already  done?"  asked  the  Brazilian  dis- 
contentedly. 

"Did  you  take  nothing  from  the  corpse?" 

The  assassin  had  found  considerable  money,  and  the 
thought  of  this  tended  to  appease  him. 

"You  are  welcome  to  that,  whatever  it  is,  and  for  the 
new  enterprise  you  shall  have  as  much  as  I  promised 
in  the  first  place.  You  see,  therefore,  that  you  will  be 
a  gainer  by  the  mistake  that  has  taken  place,  while  I  shall 
not  be  out  of  pocket  by  it." 

"You  said  you  were  but  an  agent." 

"So  I  am,  but  this  money  will  come  from  me." 

Here  the  two  villains  parted  company,  one  betaking 
himself  to  his  ship,  the  other  returning  to  the  drinking- 
saloon,  where  he  spent  the  remainder  of  the  night  in 
drunken  revelry. 

In  the  meantime,  the  man  against  whose  life  Randall 
had  plotted  unsuccessfully  was  preparing  another  dis- 
appointment for  the  mate. 

On  leaving  the  ship,  not  dreaming  how  important  to 


200  Charlie's  Escape. 

him  had  been  the  ten  minutes  by  which  his  comrades  had 
preceded  him,  Bill  Sturdy  struck  for  the  central  part  of 
the  city  by  the  most  direct  route. 

Turning  a  corner,  he  unexpectedly  fell  in  with  a  sailor 
who  had  been  a  messmate  on  a  former  voyage.  Bill 
ascertained  that  his  comrade  was  about  to  sail  in  two 
days  for  Liverpool,  and  from  thence  to  New  York. 

"Can  your  captain  take  another  hand?"  asked  Sturdy. 

"I  have  no  doubt  he  would  like  one,  for  we  are  short- 
handed.  We  lost  a  sailor  overboard  just  before  we  got 
into  Eio." 

"Do  you  carry  any  passengers?" 

"A  few." 

"1  shall  want  to  secure  a  berth  for  one." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say,  Bill,  that  you've  been  spliced?" 

"Not  quite  so  bad  as  that.    The  passenger  is  a  boy." 

"A  son  of  yours  ?" 

"I  wish  he  was,"  said  Bill  earnestly;  "but  I'll  tell 
you  more  about  this  matter  another  time.  For  the  pres- 
ent, keep  dark.  And  that  reminds  me,  can  you  tell  me 
of  any  quiet,  decent  place  where  the  lad  and  I  can  come 
to  anchor?" 

"I  know  of  a  widow  who  will  give  you  good  rooms." 

Bill  took  the  address,  and  toward  twelve  o'clock  he 
returned  to  the  wharf  at  which  the  vessel  was  lying.  While 
he  was  standing  in  the  shadow  of  a  large  building  the 
cathedral  clock  struck  twelve. 


Charlie's  Escape.  201 

A  moment  after  a  youthful  form  appeared  upon  deck, 
descended  the  side  swiftly,  and  stepped  on  the  wharf. 

"Here  I  am,  my  lad,"  said  Sturdy,  in  a  low  voice,  coming 
out  from  his  place  of  concealment. 

"I  was  afraid  you  wouldn't  be  here,"  whispered  Charlie. 

"Trust  me  for  that.  And  now  we  must  be  making  sail, 
or  the  pirates  will  be  after  us." 

And  this  is  the  way  Charlie  took  leave  of  the  Bouncing 
Betsy,  and  we  will  not  attempt  to  depict  the  rage  and 
vexation  of  Randall  and  the  captain  when  they  ascertained 
that  Bill  Sturdy  had  made  his  escape  from  the  vessel  and 
taken  Charlie  with  him.  For  they  entertained  no  doubt 
from  the  previous  intimacy  of  the  two  that  they  had  de- 
serted the  ship  in  company.  They  instituted  as  strict  a 
search  as  they  were  able,  and  even  offered  a  reward  to  any 
of  the  crew  who  should  be  instrumental  in  bringing  back 
either,  but  particularly  the  boy.  None  of  the  sailors,  how- 
ever, would  have  betrayed  Charlie,  even  if  they  had  had  the 
opportunity.  Captain  Brace  was  finally  obliged  to  put  to 
sea  without  those  whom  he  was  so  desirous  of  getting  back 
into  his  power.  He  was  compelled  at  the  last  to  ship  two 
new  hands  in  place  of  Bill  Sturdy  and  Antonio. 

As  for  Bill  Sturdy,  he  embarked  on  the  Liverpool-bound 
vessel.  He  was  desirous  that  Charlie  should  go  as  passen- 
ger, offering  to  pay  his  fare,  that  he  might  be  spared  the 
hardships  of  a  boy  on  board  ship.  But  to  this  arrange- 
ment Charlie  strongly  objected.  He  said  he  had  no  inten- 
tion of  being  idle,  and  as  to  the  hardships,  he  was  willing 


2us  Charlie's  Escape. 

xo  encounter  them.  Bill,  therefore,  withdrew  his  objections, 
and  Charlie  became  one  of  the  crew.  He  soon  became  a 
favorite,  and  as  the  captain  and  mate  were  quite 
different  in  character  and  disposition  from  those  of  the 
Bouncing  Betsy,  his  voyage  proved  much  more  pleasant  and 
satisfactory. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 


FIRST  LESSONS. 


ft  will  be  remembered  that  Mrs.  Codman,  after  the  ab- 
duction of  her  son,  was  successful  in  obtaining  the  post  of 
governess  to  a  rather  playful  and  mischievous  young  lady, 
the  only  daughter  of  a  wealthy  merchant  named  Bowman. 

Mrs.  Codman  found  her  pupil  as  playful  as  a  kitten, 
and  about  as  fond  of  study.  To  confess  the  truth,  Miss 
Bert  Bowman  was  deplorably  ignorant  for  a  young  lady  of 
her  age.  Her  governess,  however,  soon  ascertained  that  it 
was  from  no  want  of  natural  capacity,  but  rather  l^ecause 
she  had  been  so  much  indulged  that  nothing  had  been 
required  of  her  beyond  what  the  young  lady  chose  to  per- 
form, and  that  was  exceedingly  little.  In  a  private  con- 
versation with  Mrs.  Codman,  Mr.  Bowman  explained  the 
deficiencies  of  Bert  with  their  cause,  and  went  on  to  say : 

"Now,  my  dear  madam,  I  wish  to  surrender  Bert  to  your 
charge  entirely.  I  feel  assured  that  I  may  rely  upon  your 
judgment  to  adopt  such  a  course  as  may  be  best  adapted 
to  reconcile  her  to  study,  of  which,  at  present,  she  has  a 
great  dread.  I  would  not  counsel  too  great  strictness  at 
first,  though  I  do  not  apprehend  that  from  you.  Neither 
perhaps  ought  we  to  try  to  advance  very  rapidly  at  first. 
203 


204  First  Lessons. 

Step  by  step,  will  be  the  most  judicious  way.  In  regard  to 
hours,  text-books,  and  studies  generally,  you  will  do  as 
you  think  best." 

"I  thank  you,  Mr.  Bowman,"  replied  Mrs.  Codman,  "for 
your  dependence  on  my  judgment,  and  hope  to  deserve  it. 
I  hope  my  young  pupil,  who,  I  am  convinced  is  not  wanting 
in  intelligence,  will  do  justice  to  her  natural  capacity." 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Codman  commenced  her  undertaking, 
for  such  it  may  be  appropriately  called. 

"Bertha,"  said  she,  pointing  to  the  clock,  "it  is  nine 
o'clock.     Suppose  we  commence  our  studies." 

"Just  let  me  have  another  race  with  Topsy,"  said  Bert, 
who  was  flying  round  the  room  in  pursuit  of  the  black 
kitten,  who  was  evidently  regarded  by  her  young  mistress 
as  a  congenial  companion. 

"I'm  afraid  I  must  say  no,  my  dear  child,"  said  Mrs. 
Codman  gently;  "there  is  nothing  like  punctuality.  So  if 
you  will  just  ring  the  bell,  I  will  ask  Jane  to  take  away 
Topsy  for  the  present." 

"Can't  Topsy  come  to  school  with  me?"  asked  Bert, 
disappointed. 

"I'm  afraid  if  she  did  my  other  pupil  would  not  make 
very  much  progress." 

Bert  unwillingly  acquiesced  in  the  dismission  of  her 
favorite  companion. 

"You  won't  keep  me  as  long  as  they  do  in  school,  will 
you,  Mrs.  Codman  ?"  asked  Bert.  "If  I  had  to  study  four 
or  six  hours,  I  should  certainly  go  into  a  fit." 


First  Lessons.  205 

"I  dare  say  you  would/'  replied  her  teacher,  smiling. 
"Therefore  I  shall  not  keep  you  so  long.  In  fact,  as  you 
are  the  only  scholar,  we  shall  not  bind  ourselves  to  so  many 
hours,  but  rather  to  so  much  learned,  so  that  it  will  depend 
a  good  deal  on  how  well  you  study." 

"That's  good,"  said  Bert.  "Only,  Mrs.  Codman,  you 
mustn't  be  too  hard  upon  me.  I  don't  believe  I  can  get 
very  long  lessons." 

"I  mean  to  be  quite  easy  at  first.  I  shall  not  ask  much, 
but  that  little  I  shall  be  strict  in  requiring." 

Bert  wasn't  quite  sure  how  she  liked  the  latter  part  of 
this  remark. 

"Before  setting  you  any  lessons,  I  must  find  out  how 
much  you  know." 

"I  guess  it  won't  take  me  long  to  tell  you  all  I  ever 
learned." 

"Here  is  a  reading-book.     Let  me  hear  you  read." 

Bert  took  the  book,  and  stumbled  through  a  paragraph, 
invariably  mispronouncing  all  words  of  over  one  syllable. 

"There,"  said  she,  taking  a  long  breath;  "I'm  glad 
that  is  over." 

"Now,"  said  Mrs.  Codman,  taking  the  book,  "let  me 
read  it  aloud." 

She  was  an  excellent  reader,  and  Bert,  though  she  could 
not  read  well  herself,  recognized  the  fact. 

"I  wish  I  could  read  as  well  as  that,"  said  Bert.  "How 
awfully  you  must  have  studied  when  you  were  a  girl." 

"Not  so  hard  as  you  think,  perhaps,"  said  her  teacher, 


206  First  Lessons. 

smiling.     "Success  depends  more  upon  a  series  of  small 
efforts  than  upon  any  great  one." 

"Do  you  think  I  shall  ever  read  well?"  asked  Bert 
doubtfully. 

"I  am  sure  you  will,  if  you  will  give  a  moderate  amount 
of  attention.     Do  you  know  anything  of  arithmetic  ?" 
"Do  you  mean  the  multiplication  table?" 
"Yes,  that  is  a  part  of  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Bert,  "I  know  some  lines  about  it.    Charlie 
[Morrill  taught  me  them  one  day." 
"What  are  they?" 
Bert  repeated  the  following  lines: 
"Multiplication  is  vexation, 
Division  is  as  bad. 
The  rule  of  Three  doth  trouble  me, 
And  Practise  makes  me  mad. 

Mrs.  Codman  smiled. 

"Perhaps  you  will  like  them  better  as  you  grow  better 
acquainted,"  she  said.  "Can  you  tell  me  how  much  are 
four  times  four?" 

Bert  went  through  a  variety  of  motions  in  counting 
her  fingers,  and  finally  announced  as  the  result  of  her 
computation,  that  four  times  four  made  twenty-nine. 

"That  is  hardly  right." 

"I'm  awful  ignorant,  ain't  I?"  asked  Bert. 

"Considerably  so,  I  confess.  But  we  shall  be  able  to 
remedy  that." 

"You  won't  make  me  study  my  eyes  out?" 

"That  would  be  a  pity.    You  see  mine  are  not  yet  gone, 


First  Lessons.  207 

and  I  don't  mean  to  ask  you  to  study  any  harder  than 
I  did." 

Bert  looked  at  the  eyes  of  her  teacher  which  were  quite 
as  bright  as  her  own,  and  lost  her  apprehensions  on  that 
Bcore. 

"Ill  tell  you  why  I  asked/"'  said  she,  after  a  pause. 
"There's  a  girl  that  goes  to  school — she's  only  twelve 
years  old — and  she  has  to  wear  spectacles,  and  I  heard 
somebody  say  it  was  because  she  studied  so  hard.  I 
shouldn't  want  to  be  obliged  to  wear  sj>ectacles." 

Mrs.  Codman  could  not  forbear  laughing  at  the  idea 
of  her  frolicsome  little  scholar,  with  a  pair  of  glasses 
perched  upon  her  nose,  and  promised  her  that  if  she 
found  there  was  any  prospect  of  her  being  obliged  to 
wear  them,  she  would  advise  at  once  giving  up  study. 

"Then  I  hope,"  thought  Bert,  "I  shall  need  them  soon." 

"Now,"  proceeded  Mrs.  Codman,  "I  am  going  to  give 
you  short  and  easy  lessons  in  reading,  spelling,  and 
arithmetic.  It  won't  take  you  long  to  get  them,  if  you 
only  try.  When  you  have  recited  them,  we  are  to  go  out 
and  ride  in  the  carriage." 

"'Oh,  that  will  be  nice,"  exclaimed  the  child.  "Tell  me 
what  the  lesson  is,  quick." 

The  lessons  were  got  and  said  sooner  than  could  have 
been  expected,  and  so  Bert  had  taken  the  first  step  in 
ascending  the  hill  of  learning. 


CHAPTEE  XXXIIL 

A    LETTER    FROM    CHARLIE. 

Bert  had  plenty  of  capacity.  She  could  get  her  lessons 
in  an  incredibly  short  time  when  there  was  any  induce- 
ment. At  other  times  she  would  sit  for  two  or  three 
hours  with  the  book  before  her,  but  with  her  attention 
straying  to  other  things,  and,  as  a  natural  consequence, 
would  know  no  more  at  the  end  of  that  time  than  at  the 
beginning.  Fortunately  Mrs.  Codman  had  the  gift  of 
patience,  and  though  she  was  gentle,  was,  at  the  same 
time,  firm. 

Of  one  thing  Bert  became  convinced — that  study  was 
not  so  terrible  as  she  had  imagined.  At  the  end  of  three 
months  she  had  made  so  great  an  improvement,  that  her 
father  was  equally  surprised  and  delighted,  and  was  dis- 
posed to  do  full  justice  to  Mrs.  Codman's  merits  as  a 
governess. 

"Who  knows  but  you  will  become  quite  a  learned  lady 
in  time,  Bert?"  he  said  playfully. 

"No  doubt  of  it,  papa,"  replied  Bert.  "By  the  time 
I  am  eighteen,  I  expect  to  wear  green  glasses  and  write 
books." 

208 


A  Letter  from  Charlie.  209 

'That  will,  indeed,  be  a  miraculous  transformation. 
And  what  is  to  become  of  Topsy,  then  ?" 

"Oh,  she'll  be  an  old  cat  then,  and  won't  feel  any: 
more  like  racing  round  than  I  do.  She'll  just  curl  up 
in  a  chair  beside  me,  and  I  will  use  her  fur  to  wipe  my 
pens  on.     She  is  just  the  right  color  for  that,  you  know." 

"Quite  a  sensible  plan,  I  confess.  Indeed,  it  will  be 
well  for  you  to  have  something  of  that  kind  to  be  em- 
ployed about,  as  you  will  probably  have  no  beaux." 

"No  beaux,  papa?  And  why  am  I  to  have  no  beaux? 
I  should  like  to  know?" 

"Because  it  takes  two  to  make  a  bargain." 

"Well,  perhaps  I  sha'n't,"  replied  Bert,  tossing  her  head. 
"Perhaps  you  don't  know  that  I  have  picked  out  my 
future  husband." 

"Whew !  That  is  getting  along  faster  than  I  had  antici- 
pated. May  I  be  permitted  to  know  who  is  to  be  my 
6on-in-law?     I  think  I  can  guess,  however." 

"Who?" 

"Mr.  Bradley." 

Mr.  Bradley  was  a  bachelor,  of  about  fifty,  partially 
bald  and  more  than  partially  homely,  who  had  now  and 
then  dined  with  Mr.  Bowman,  and  had  taken  more  notice 
of  the  young  lady  than  she  at  all  desired. 

"Mr.  Bradley !"  repeated  Bert,  in  a  contemptuous  man- 
ner.   "I'd  a  good  deal  rather  marry  Topsy." 

^Perhaps,"  suggested  her  father,  "the  superior  length' 


210  A  Letter  from  Charlie. 

of  the  kitten's  whiskers  causes  you  to  give  her  the  prefer- 
ence.   Am  I  to  understand  that  she  is  your  choice?" 

"No ;  it  is  a  very  handsome  boy,  and  his  name  is 
Charlie  Codman." 

A  look  of  regret  stole  over  Mrs.  Codman's  face — the 
expression  of  a  sorrow  caused  by  her  uncertainty  with 
regard  to  Charlie's  fate. 

"A  son  of  yours?"  asked  Mr.  Bowman,  in  some  sur- 
prise. 

Mrs.  Codman  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"You  ought  to  see  his  miniature,  papa.  He  is  very 
handsome." 

"And  you  have  lost  your  heart  to  him.  Perhaps  he  may 
not  return  the  compliment." 

"I  hope  he  will,"  said  the  young  lady. 

"Perhaps  Mrs.  Codman  will  allow  me  to  look  at  the 
miniature  of  my  future  son-in-law,"  said  Mr.  Bowman, 
not  guessing  the  mother's  sorrow  and  its  cause. 

While  Mrs.  Codman  was  absent  from  the  rocm,  Bert 
gave  her  father  a  brief  account  of  Charlie's  disappearance. 

"You  must  pardon  me,  Mrs.  Codman,"  said  Mr.  Bow- 
man, when  she  had  returned,  "for  speaking  in  the  lively 
tone  I  did.  I  little  guessed  the  anxiety  you  must  feel 
about  your  son.  Is  this  the  miniature  ?  A  very  attractive 
face.  I  don't  wonder  at  Bert's  taking  a  fancy  to  it.  I 
cannot  wonder  at  your  sorrow  in  losing,  even  for  a  time, 
euch  a  boy  as  this  face  seems  to  indicate." 


A  Letter  from  Charlie.  211 

''You  think  there  is  a  chance  of  his  coming  bad.  to 
me?"  asked  Mrs.  Codman  anxiously. 

"I  am  hardly  prepared  to  express  an  opinion  on  the 
scanty  information  which  Bert  has  been  able  to  give  me* 
If  you  are  willing  to  tell  me  the  story  in  detail,  I  will 
tell  you  what  I  think  of  the  chances." 

Mrs.  Codman  told  the  story,  mentioning  also  the  na::6 
of  Peter  Manson,  and  the  language  which  he  had  used. 

"I  sometimes  see  this  Manson,"  said  the  merchant,  "and 
know  him  by  reputation.    He  is  a  miser." 

"He  pretends  to  be  very  poor." 

"All  pretense.  I  do  not  see  what  object  he  could  have 
had  in  spiriting  your  son  away." 

Further  conversation  followed,  but,  as  might  be  ex- 
pected, no  satisfactory  result  was  reached.  Mrs.  Codmnn, 
however,  felt  relieved  and  more  hopeful  in  the  knowledge 
that  her  employer  knew  of  her  loss,  and  would  do  what 
he  could  to  discover  Charlie. 

It  was  only  a  week  later  that  the  gentleman  came  into 
the  school-room  with  a  smile  upon  his  face. 

"Father,  you  bring  good  news;   isn't  it  so?"  said  Bert. 

"I  hope  so." 

Mrs.  Codman  looked  up  with  a  glance  of  eager  inquiry. 

"As  I  took  up  the  morning  paper,*'  said  the  merchant, 
"my  eyes,  by  chance,  ran  down  the  list  of  advertised 
letters.  Recognizing  the  name  of  Mrs.  Codman  among 
them,  I  took  the  liberty  of  sending  to  the  office  for  it. 
It  is  post-marked  at  Rio  Janeiro." 


212  A  Letter  from  Charlie. 

"Oh,  give  it  to  me  quick !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Codman,  in 
agitation. 

"Is  it  from  Charlie  ?"  asked  Bert. 

"It  is,  it  is !"  exclaimed  the  happy  mother,  as  she  recog- 
nized the  familiar  handwriting;  and,  tearing  open  the 
letter,  she  devoured  the  contents. 

It  was  the  letter  which  Charlie  had  commenced  on. 
shipboard,  and  it  read: 

"Dearest  Mother:  I  hope  this  letter  will  reach  you 
in  safety,  and  will  relieve  you  of  some  of  the  anxiety 
you  must  have  felt  about  your  wandering  boy.  You  will 
start  with  surprise  when  you  see  where  this  is  dated. 
I  am  three  thousand  miles  from  you,  dear  mother,  but 
not  by  my  own  act.  But  I  must  tell  you  how  I  came  to 
leave  you.  (This  portion  of  the  letter  is  omitted.)  You 
mustn't  think  I  have  suffered  all  the  time  on  board  the 
ship,  though  it  is  hard  work,  and,  for  some  reason,  the 
captain  and  mate  have  both  been  my  enemies. 

"I  have  had  one  faithful  friend,  to  whom  I  am  very 
much  indebted.  He  is  a  rough  sailor,  and  neither  edu- 
cated nor  refined,  but  he  has  a  warm  heart,  and  has  been 
very  kind  to  your  boy.  Indeed,  mother,  I  don't  know 
how  much  trouble  I  should  have  had,  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  honest  Bill  Sturdy.  Some  time  I  hope  you  will  have 
the  pleasure  of  taking  him  by  the  hand,  and  thanking 
him  for  all  he  has  done  for  me.  The  greatest  act  of 
friendship  for  which  I  have  to  thank  him  I  will  not  write 
here,  but  I  will  tell  you  some  time. 


A  Letter  from  Charlie.  213 

"As  we  were  neither  of  us  treated  as  well  as  we  ought 
to  be,  we  have  deserted  the  vessel,  and  transferred  our- 
selves to  a  ship  bound  to  Liverpool,  and  thence  to  New 
York;  so  that  it  may  be  some  months  from  now  before 
I  see  you  again. 

"I  am  so  afraid  you  have  suffered  since  I  left  you,  not 
only  from  solitude  and  anxiety  about  me,  but  have  been 
compelled  to  labor  beyond  your  strength.  You  were  so 
poorly  paid  for  that  horrid  sewing,  and  had  to  work  so 
hard  at  it.  But  when  I  come  back  we  will  live  together, 
as  we  once  did;  and  though  it  will  not  be  a  luxurious 
home,  it  shall  be  a  happy  one.  As  you  may  have  moved 
elsewhere,  you  must  leave  word  with  those  who  occupy 
our  old  room  where  you  live,  so  that  when  I  come  back, 
which  will  be  just  as  soon  as  I  can,  I  may  come  at  once 
to  you,  and  tell  you  how  much  I  have  missed  you.  From 
your  affectionate  son,  Charlie." 

Knowing  that  Mr.  Bowman  felt  a  friendly  interest  in 
Charlie's  welfare,  Mrs.  Codman,  her  eyes  dim  with  happy 
tears,  handed  him  the  letter,  which  he  read  attentively. 

"A  very  good  letter,"  he  said,  "and  very  creditable  to 
the  writer.  When  he  returns,  if  you  and  he  are  both 
willing,  I  will  receive  him  at  once  into  my  office.  His 
letter  is  sufficient  recommendation." 

How  differently  the  world  looks  according  to  the  mood 

in  which  we  view  it.     No  one  could  have  convinced  Mrs. 

Codman,  after  the  reception  of  this  letter,  that  it  was  not 

l  paradise.     The  patient  sorrow  which  her  face 


£14  A  Letter  from  Charlie. 

had  worn  the  day  before,  gave  place  to  a  sweet  and  happy 
expression,  which  made  her  look  quite  charming. 

"Mrs.  Codman  is  really  a  beautiful  woman,"  thought 
Mr.  Bowman,  as,  unobserved,  he  watched  her  laughing 
with  Bert,  glancing  over  the  newspaper  which  he  was 
supposed  to  be  reading. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE   BETUftN    OF   THE   "BETSY." 

It  was  a  fine  morning  when  the  Bouncing  Betsy,  aften 
a  quick  and  prosperous  voyage,  entered  Boston  harbor. 
There  had  been  few  or  no  changes  on  board  since  the  ship 
left  Rio  Janeiro  on  the  passage  out.  Captain  Brace  was 
still  in  command,  and  unfortunately  had  not  at  all 
mended  his  ways,  but  had  richly  merited,  as  he  had  ob- 
tained, the  general  dislike  of  the  crew,  not  one  of  whom 
would  sail  with  him  again  unless  forced  by  dire  necessity. 
Second  in  odium,  as  he  was  in  command,  came  Randall, 
the  mate.  He  cared  little  how  he  was  regarded  by  the 
men  under  him.  To  him  the  voyage  had  proved  in  some 
respects  a  disappointment.  He  had  not  recovered  from 
the  vexation  occasioned  by  the  escape  of  Bill  Sturdy  and 
Charlie.  Tie  had  anticipated  with  eagerness  the  return 
to  Boston,  where  he  hoped  first  to  meet  with  the  deserters, 
and  secondly,  he  intended  to  wrest  a  further  sum  from 
Peter  Manson. 

Before  visiting  the  miser,  however,  it  was  his  intention 
to  find  out  what  he  could  about  Mrs.  Codman,  and  how 
she  had  fared.  He  hoped  in  his  vindietiveness  she  had 
215 


216  The  Return  of  the  "Betsy." 

been  reduced  to  the  deepest  distress,  and  the  hardest 
shifts  to  procure  a  livelihood. 

He  made  his  way  to  the  tenement-house  where  Mrs. 
Codman  formerly  lodged.  He  went  up  to  the  door  of  her 
former  room  and  knocked,  but  it  was  opened  by  a 
stranger,  who  could  give  him  no  information  about  the 
person  for  whom  he  inquired. 

Perplexed  and  quite  at  a  loss  how  to  obtain  a  clue  to 
the  knowledge  he  desired,  he  went  back  to  Washington 
Street,  and  mingled  in  the  busy  throng  that  crowded  the 
sidewalks.  He  walked  leisurely  along,  gazing  listlessly 
into  the  shop  windows,  but  intent  upon  his  own  thoughts. 

Chancing  to  let  his  eyes  rest  upon  a  passing  carriage, 
he  was  startled  by  the  glimpse  of  a  face  which  he  waa 
sure  he  knew.  It  was  an  elegant  carriage,  drawn  by  two 
spirited  horses,  and  evidently  the  equipage  of  a  person 
of  wealth.  A  negro  coachman  in  livery  sat  upon  the  box, 
and  wielded  the  reins  with  a  dexterous  hand.  There  were 
two  persons  inside — one  was  a  child  of  ten,  who  was 
talking  in  an  animated  strain  to  a  lady  with  a  beautiful 
and  expressive  face,  who  sat  beside  her. 

These  two  persons  were  Bert  and  her  governess.  The 
latter  was  looking  better  than  when  she  was  introduced 
to  the  reader.  Surrounded  by  comforts  and  luxuries,  and 
above  all  relieved  from  her  most  pressing  anxiety  by  the 
letter  which  she  had  received  from  Charlie,  her  cheeks 
had  recovered  their  wonted  fullness  and  bloom,  and  the 


The  Return  of  the  "Betsy."  217 

rare  beauty  for  which  she  had  been  distinguished  in  her 
youth. 

Eandall  could  scarcely  believe  his  eyes.  This  was  the 
woman  whom  he  had  pictured  to  himself  as  struggling 
amid  the  deepest  poverty  to  obtain  a  scanty  subsistence, 
worn  out  by  harrowing  anxiety  for  the  loss  of  her  only 
son.  What  a  contrast  to  his  anticipations  was  the  reality ! 
He  saw  her  tastefully  dressed — the  picture  of  health  and 
happiness — with  the  same  beauty  that  had  dazzled  him 
in  times  past,  surrounded  by  evidences  of  prosperity  and 
luxury. 

"What  can  it  mean  ?"  he  thought  in  bewilderment.  "Is 
it  possible  that  my  eyes  are  deceived  by  an  accidental 
resemblance  ?" 

The  carriage  had  already  passed  him,  but  as  it  was 
obliged  to  proceed  slowly  on  account  of  a  press  of  traffic, 
he  had  no  difficulty,  by  quickening  his  pace  a  little,  in 
overtaking  it,  and  again  scanning  the  face  whose  presence 
there  had  filled  him  with  so  much  surprise. 

The  first  explanation  which  suggested  itself  to  him  as 
possible  was,  that  Mrs.  Codman  had  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  some  wealthy  gentleman,  who  forgetting  the  dis- 
tance which  circumstances  had  established  between  them, 
had  laid  himself  and  his  fortune  at  her  feet.  But  even 
then  how  could  she  appear  so  light-hearted  and  happy 
unless  Charlie  had  returned?  There  was  another  sup- 
position that  old  Peter  Manson  had  died,  and  on  his 
death-bed,  repenting  his  past   wickedness   and  injustice, 


218  The  Return  of  the  "Betsy." 

had  repaired  the  wrong  of  which  he  had  been  guilty,  at 
far  as  lie  could,  by  leaving  all  his  possessions  to  Mrs. 
Codman.  This  was  to  Eandall  the  most  disagreeable  sup- 
position of  the  two,  for  it  would  effectually  stand  in  the 
way  of  the  designs  which  he  cherished  against  the  same 
property. 

Determined  not  to  lose  sight  of  Mrs.  Codman,  he  with 
considerable  difficulty  kept  pace  with  the  carriage.  It 
chanced  that  Bert  and  her  governess  were  just  returning 
from  a  drive,  otherwise  they  might  have  led  Randall  a 
long  chase.    At  present  they  were  not  very  far  from  home. 

From  the  opposite  side  of  the  street  Eandall  watched 
them  descend  the  steps  of  the  carriage  and  enter  the 
house.  He  paused  long  enough  afterward  to  cross  the 
street,  note  down  the  name  of  Bowman  together  with 
the  number,  that  he  might  be  able  to  identify  it  hereafter. 
He  then  examined  the  house  itself  with  some  curiosity. 
The  appearance  of  the  house  indicated  clearly  enough  the 
wealth  of  the  owner. 

"I  wish  I  knew,"  muttered  the  mate,  "on  what  footing 
Mrs.  Codman  resides  here.  She  must  either  be  the  wife 
cf  the  proprietor  or  his  housekeeper,  one  or  the  other." 

At  this  moment  an  infirm  old  woman  limped  out  of 
the  side-gate,  with  a  basket  slung  on  her  arm. 

Pressing  forward,  he  accosted  her. 

"You  seem  heavily  laden,  my  good  woman." 

"Yes,"  said  she,  "thanks  to  the  good  lady  who  lives 
in  the  house." 


The  Keturn  of  the  "Betsy."  219 

"What  is  her  name?" 

"It's  Mrs.  Codman.     Do  you  know  her,  sir?" 

**f  am  not  sure.  I  once  knew  some  one  of  the  name. 
But  there  is  a  different  name  on  the  door — Bowman." 

"Yes,  he  is  the  gentleman  of  the  house." 

"And  Mrs.  Codman?" 

"She  is  the  young  lady's  governess." 

"How  long  has  she  been  there?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir.'' 

"Never  mind.     It  doesn't  matter  much.'- 

"I  wish  I  could  tell  you,  sir," 

"It's  of  no  consequence  at  all,  and  you  needn't  mention 
that  any  questions  have  been  asked  you.  But  I  am  afraid 
I  have  been  detaining  you.  Here  is  something  to  pay 
you  for  your  trouble." 

So  saying,  he  slipped  half  a  dollar  into  her  hand  and, 
avoiding  her  profuse  thanks,  walked  hastily  away. 

"Now,  for  a  visit  to  the  miser,"  he  said  to  himself 


CHAPTEE  XXXV. 

CHARLIE    TURNS    UP    UNEXPECTEDLY. 

There  was  but  little  variety  in  the  monotonous  life  of 
Peter  Manson.  His  life  was  one  struggle  for  money, 
which  seemed  to  be  the  end  and  aim  of  his  existence. 
But  what  did  he  propose  to  do  with  it  all?  He  was  not 
an  old  man  yet,  but  all  the  infirmities  of  age  were 
upon  him. 

Peter  had  not  forgotten  nor  ceased  to  lament  the  heavy 
draft  which  had  been  made  upon  him  by  Eandall.  The 
thousands  which  he  had  left  could  not  compensate  him 
for  the  one  he  had  lost.  So,  in  the  hope  of  making  it 
up,  he  strove  to  live  even  more  economically  than  before, 
if,  indeed,  that  were  possible.  The  additional  privations 
to  which  he  subjected  himself  began  to  tell  upon  the  old 
man's  constitution.  He  grew  thinner  and  weaker  and 
more  shriveled  than  before,  and  all  this  to  save  a  penny 
or  two  additional  each  day. 

As  Peter  was  crawling  feebly  along  toward  his  gloomy 
den  one  afternoon,  clad  in  the  invariable  blue  cloak,  he 
was  startled  by  hearing  a  hoarse  voice  behind  him,  call- 
ing out: 

"Peter  Manson — Peter,  I  say!" 
220 


Charlie  Turns  Up  Unexpectedly.  221 

"Who  calls?"  asked  Peter,  in  a  quavering  voice,  slowly 
turning  round. 

"Don't  you  remember  me  ?"  asked  Randall,  for  it  was  he. 

Peter  muttered  something  unintelligible  as  he  cast  a 
terrified  glance  at  the  mate,  and  quickened  his  pace. 

"You're  not  very  polite,  Peter,"  said  the  other,  quickly 
overtaking  and  joining  the  old  man.  "Is  this  the  way 
to  greet  an  old  friend  whom  you  have  not  seen  for 
nearly  a  year?" 

Peter  looked  anxious  and  alarmed,  and  glanced  askance 
at  his  companion. 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  miser's  quarters,  and 
Peter,  taking  out  a  key,  opened  the  door.  He  opened 
it  just  sufficiently  to  admit  himself,  and  was  then  about 
to  close  it  when  Randall,  unceremoniously  pushing  him 
aside,  entered  also. 

"By  your  leave,  Peter,  I  will  spend  a  short  time  with, 
you." 

"I  have  no  fire,"  said  Peter  Manson  hastily. 

"I  dare  say  not,"  said  Randall  carelessly,  "but  you  can 
easily  kindle  one." 

"I— I  have  no  fuel." 

"None  at  all?" 

"Why,  a  little — a  very  little,"  stammered  Peter  uneasily. 

"I  thought  so.  Come,  lead  the  way.  I  won't  trouble 
you  to  light  the  fire.    I'll  do  it  myself." 

With  something  that  sounded  like  a  groan,  the  old  man. 


222  Charlie  Turns  Up  Unexpectedly. 

led  the  way,  and  ushered  his  unwelcome  guest  into  his 
room. 

Eandall  used  as  much  wood  in  kindling  a  fire  as  would 
have  lasted  Peter  a  whole  day. 

"You  will  ruin  me/'  he  said,  in  dismay. 

"Then  3'ou'll  be  ruined  in  a  good  cause,"  said  Eandall. 
"But  I  say,  Peter,  don't  you  remember  what  we  talked 
about  when  I  visited  you  last?" 

The  old  man  groaned,  thinking  of  the  thousand  dollars. 

"Seems  to  me  it  has  not  left  a  very  agreeable  impression 
upon  your  mind,"  remarked  his  companion.  "Don't 
you  want  me  to  tell  you  of  the  boy  that  I  spirited  away?" 

"Is  he  dead?"  asked  Peter  eagerly. 

"No;  curse  him,  he  escaped  from  me." 

"You — you  didn't  let  him  know  about  the  money?" 

"Which  you  felonioxisly  kept  from  him?  Was  that  what 
you  mean?" 

«Ye— yes." 

"No,  I  didn't." 

Peter  looked  relieved. 

"Where  is  he  now?" 

"Heaven  knows !  I  don't.  He  deserted  from  the  ship 
at  Pio  Janeiro.  But  let  me  ask  you,  in  turn,  Peter,  what 
has  become  of  the  mother,  whom  each  of  us  has  so  much 
reason  to  hate?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Then  she  is  no  longer  a  tenant  of  yours?" 

"She  moved  in  less  than  a  month  after  you  went  away." 


Charlie  Turns  Up  Unexpectedly.  223 

"Couldn't  pay  her  rent  ?" 

"Yes;  she  paid  it  as  long  as  she  stayed.  I  have  not 
seen  or  heard  anything  of  her  since." 

"I  have,"  said  the  mate  significantly. 

"You !"  exclaimed  Peter  eagerly. 

"I  saw  her  to-day." 

"How — where  ?" 

"In  a  carriage." 

"A  carriage !"  echoed  Peter,  in  surprise. 

"Yes;  looking  as  bright  and  handsome  as  when  she 
rejected  you  with  scorn." 

The  miser  frowned. 

"Where  did  you  meet  her?" 

"On  Washington  Street.  I  was  walking  there  when 
I  chanced  to  look  into  a  gay  carriage  that  was  driving 
by,  and  saw  her." 

"Are  you  sure  you  are  not  mistaken?" 

"No.     I  followed  her  to  her  place  of  residence." 

"Where  is  it?" 

"No.  Mt.  Yernon  Street." 

"She  must  be  rich,  then." 

"Xo;  ehe  is  a  governess  there,  though  enjoying,  I 
should  think,  unusual  privileges,  and  is,  no  doubt,  happy." 

Peter  made  no  reply,  hut  seemed  occupied  by  other 
thoughts. 

"And  now,  Peter,  have  you  any  idea  what  I  came  for?" 

"To  tell  me  this." 

"I  am  i-  t  fool  enough  to  take  all  this  trouble." 


224  Charlie  Turns  Up  Unexpectedly. 

'Then  I  don't  know." 

"I  want  money,  Peter." 

Peter  could  not  be  said  to  change  color,  but  he  grew 
more  ghastly  than  before,  at  this  demand. 

"I  have  nothing  to  give  you,"  he  said. 

"Tell  that  to  the  marines.  You  must  give  me  another 
thousand  dollars." 

"Another  thouand  dollars!"  exclaimed  the  old  man. 
"Where  do  you  think  I  should  get  it?  Did  I  not  im- 
poverish myself  in  satisfying  your  last  demand,  and  have 
I  not  been  obliged  to  live  on  bread  and  water  since  ?" 

Eandal  1  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  dare  say  you  have  lived  on  bread  and  water,  but  as 
to  being  obliged  to,  that  is  nonsense.  I  ask  you  again  to 
give  me  a  thousand  dollars.  You  will  have  thousands 
left." 

"I  shall  be  a  beggar,"  said  the  old  man  passionately. 

"A  beggar !"  returned  Eandall,  laughing  scornfully. 

"Yes,"  said  Peter  with  energy.  "You  promised  when 
I  gave  you  a  thousand  dollars" — his  voice  faltered  as  he 
recalled  the  sacrifice — "that  you  would  ask  no  more.  Now, 
you  come  back  for  another  sum  as  large,  and  it  is  not  yet 
a  year.  You  shall  not  have  it !  Not  if  I  had  it  fifty  times 
over." 

"Bethink  you  what  you  are  saying,  old  man,"  said  Ean- 
dall menacingly.  "Do  you  know  that  I  can  go  to  Mrs. 
Codman,  and  denounce  you?" 

"You  will  not,"  said  Peter,  trembling. 


Charlie  Turns  Up  Unexpectedly.  225 

"But  I  will,  unless  you  comply  with  my  demand.  Now 
what  do  you  say?  Better  be  reasonable,  and  consent,  be- 
fore I  compel  you.'' 

"Xever !"  exclaimed  the  miser  desperately. 

"I  will  denounce  you  to  the  police.  Shall  I  have  the 
money  ?" 

But  Peter  was  no  longer  to  be  moved,  even  by  his  fears. 
His  love  of  money  overcame  every  other  consideration,  and 
again  he  exclaimed,  "Never !"  with  all  the  energy  of  which 
he  was  capable. 

"Is  this  your  final  answer?" 

"It  is." 

"Then  I  will  help  myself,"  said  Randall,  coolly,  leaving 
his  chair,  and  beginning  to  lift  up  the  trapdoor,  beneath 
which  was  the  miser's  box  of  treasure. 

As  soon  as  Peter  fairly  comprehended  his  design,  and 
saw  the  money  in  the  grasp  of  the  purloiner,  unable  to 
restrain  himself,  he  threw  himself  upon  the  mate  with  a 
cry  as  of  a  lioness  deprived  of  her  young,  and  grasped 
the  strong  man  by  the  throat  with  fingers,  which,  though 
naturally  weak,  rage  and  despair  made  strong.  At  all 
events,  it  was  not  particularly  comfortable,  and  provoked 
(Randall,  who  seized  the  old  man  in  his  strong  arms,  and, 
with  a  muttered  curse,  hurled  him  to  the  floor,  where  he 
lay  pale  and  senseless. 

"Confusion!"  muttered  Randall,  in  dismay,  for  Peter 
had  uttered  a  shrill  scream  as  he  fell.  "I  am  afraid  I 
shall  get  into  an  ugly  scrape." 


226  Charlie  Turns  Up  Unexpectedly. 

He  was  not  altogether  wrong. 

The  scream  had  been  heard  by  two.  at  least,  who  were 
passing.  The  door  was  hurst  open,  and  in  rushed  Bill 
Sturdy  and  Charlie  Codman,  who  had  just  returned  to 
Boston,  and  were  passing  on  their  way  up  from  the  wharf 
at  which  the  vessel  was  lying. 

"Mr.  Eandall !"  exclaimed  Charlie,  in  surprised  recog- 
nition. 

Randall  strove  to  escape  through  the  opened  door,  but 
Sturdy,  seizing  him  in  his  powerful  grasp,  cried,  "'Not  so 
fast,  my  hearty!  You've  been  up  to  some  mischief,  and 
if  I  don't  see  justice  clone  you,  may  I  never  see  salt-water 


CHAPTER  XXXYI. 

CHARLIE    COilES    INTO    HIS    FORTUNE. 

Probably  there  were  no  two  persons  then  living  whom 
Randall  at  that  moment  cared  less  about  seeing  than  Bill 
Sturdy  and  Charlie.  Though  astonished  beyond  expres- 
sion to  see  them  there,  his  position  was  too  critical  to  al- 
low him  to  waste  time  in  giving  expression  to  his  Bur- 
prise. 

"Let  me  go,  you  scoundrel !"  he  exclaimed,  making  a 
desperate  effort  to  elude  Bill's  grasp. 

He  might  as  well  have  striven  to  tear  himself  from  the 
grasp  of  a  lion. 

"Not  so  fast,  Mr.  Randall,"  said  Bill  Sturdy. 

"You  mutinous  scoundrel !"  hissed  the  mate. 

"You  forget,"  said  the  captor  coolly,  "that  we  are  not 
now  on  the  quarter-deck.  Here  I  am  your  equal,  Mr.  Ran- 
dall, and,  perhaps,  you  may  find  me  a  little  more." 

"Let  me  go,  if  you  know  what  is  best  for  yourself," 
ejaculated  Randall. 

"If  you  know  what  is  best  for  yourself,"  said  Bill  com- 
posedly, "I  would  acivise  you  to  be  quiet." 

"And  now,"  he  continued,  tightening  his  grasp  a  lit- 
227 


228  Charlie  Comes  Into  His  Fortune. 

tie,  "just  let  me  know  what  mischief  you  have  been  up 
to?" 

"I  am  not  responsible  to  you,"  said  Randall. 

"Responsible  or  not,  you  must  give  an  account  of  your- 
self." 

"If  you  will  let  me  go,  I  will  make  it  worth  your 
while." 

"Do  you  think  I  am  mean  enough  to  accept  a  bribe?" 
exclaimed  Sturdy,  with  honest  indignation.  "Let  me 
know  what  you  have  been  doing." 

"This  old  man !"  said  Randall,  curbing  his  pride,  "fool- 
ishly thought  I  meant  to  rob  him,  and  shrieked  for  as- 
sistance. 

"Is  that  all !"  asked  Bill,  keenly  glancing  at  the  box 
of  coins  and  bank-notes.  "Things  look  as  if  you  were  go- 
ing to  rob  him  in  reality." 

"I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  thieving,"  said  Randall. 

At  this  moment  the  miser  began  to  show  signs  of  re- 
turning consciousness. 

"Go  and  get  some  water,  Charlie,"  said  Bill.  "The 
old  man  looks  as  if  he  might  come  to  with  a  little  help." 

There  was  a  pail  half-full  of  water  standing  near-by. 
Charlie  sprinkled  Peter's  face,  and  a  moment  after  he 
gasped  and  opened  his  e}res.  He  cast  a  frightened  glance 
from  face  to  face  till  his  eyes  rested  on  Randall,  when 
he  shuddered,  and  cried  feebly. 

"Take  him  away,  take  him  away !    He  will  rob  me." 


Charlie  Comes  Into  His  Fortune.  229 

"Not  while  I  am  here  to  prevent  him/'  returned  Bill, 
in  a  tone  of  assurance. 

"You  are  friends,  then?"  said  the  miser  anxiously. 

"Of  course  we  are.    Did  this  man  attempt  to  rob  you  ?" 

"Take  care  not  to  make  any  false  accusations,  old 
man,"  said  Eandall  menacingly. 

"Speak  the  truth  without  fear,"  said  Bill  Sturdy;  "I'll 
bear  you  out  in  it.     He  can't  do  you  any  harm." 

"He  demanded  a  thousand  dollars  from  me,"  said  the 
old  man,  "and  when  I  would  not  give  it  to  him  he  was 
going  to  help  himself." 

"What  do  you  say  to  that,  Mr.  Eandall?"  asked  Sturdy. 

"I  say  this,"  said  the  mate,  turning  a  malignant  glance 
upon  the  miser,  "that  it  was  a  regular  bargain — a  matter 
of  business.  This  man  owed  me  the  money — he  knows 
best  what  for,  and  refused  to  pay  it." 

"I  did  not,"  said  Peter  hastily,  "he  had  already  been 
paid  in  full." 

"Take  care,  Peter,  or  I  may  tell  what  it  was  for." 

"I  defy  you,"  said  the  miser  in  a  quavering  tone  of  de- 
fiance.    "You  are  a  bad  man." 

"Perhaps  you  don't  know  who  this  boy  is?"  said  Ean- 
dall. 

"Who  is  he?"  asked  Peter  doubtfully. 

"He  is  one  who  has  reason  to  consider  you  his  enemy," 
said  Eandall,  "even  more  than  myself." 

At  his  unexpected  statement  Bill  Sturdy  and  Charlie 
nt  each  other  in  surprise. 


230  Charlie  Comes  Into  His  Fortune. 

"Do  you  know  this  old  man,  then,  Charlie?"  asked 
Sturdy. 

"Yes;  he  is  Mr.  Hanson,  of  whom  my  mother  used  to 
hire  a  room  " 

"The  landlord  ?" 

"Yes." 

"And  what  harm  has  he  ever  done  to  you?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Charlie,  shaking  his  head,  "un- 
less," and  an  anxious  look  came  over  his  face,  "he  has 
distressed  my  mother  for  rent  since  I  have  been  gone." 

"Is  that  so?"  demanded  the  sailor  sternly. 

"No,  no !"  said  Peter  Manson  hastily.  "She  left  my 
tenement  a  good  many  months  ago." 

"And  where  is  she  now?"  asked  Charlie  eagerly,  for, 
having  just  landed,  he  knew  nothing  of  his  mother's 
whereabouts. 

"Then  you  have  not  seen  her  ?"  asked  Randall,  with  the 
sudden  thought  that  he  might  make  better  terms  for 
himself  by  selling  his  knowledge  on  the  subject. 

"No,"  said  Charlie.  "Is  she  well?  Tell  me,  I  entreat 
you,  if  you  know." 

"I  do  know,"  said  Eandall  composedly,  "both  where  she 
is  and  how  she  has  fared." 

"Tell  me  quick." 

"That  depends  upon  circumstances.  While  I  am  held 
in  custody  I  have  little  inducement  to  do  you  a  favor/' 

"Sturdy  will  release  you,  won't  you,  Sturdy?  Only  tell 
me  where  my  mother  is,  that  I  may  go  to  her  at  once." 


Charlie  Comes  Into  His  Fortune.  831 

■Why,"'  said  Bill  cautiously,  "I  don't  know  exactly.  He 
may  be  trying  a  game,  and  giving  us  information  that 
won't  be  worth  anything." 

"You  can  keep  me  here  till  you  have  sent  to  ascer- 
tain if  I  have  told  you  the  truth." 

"No,  no,"  said  Peter  Manson,  terrified  at  the  pros- 
pect, "don't  let  him  stay  here.     He  would  rob  me." 

"Rob  you,"  sneered  Randall ;  "it  looks  well  in  you  whose 
money  has  been  dishonestly  gained,  to  charge  me  with 
theft." 

"He — you  won't  mind  what  he  says,  gentleman,"  said 
Peter  Manson,  trembling.     "He  only  gays  it  to  spite  me." 

"To  spit  you !  Yes,  you  old  hunk,  I  will  spite  you, 
and  that  with  a  vengeance !  Hark  you,  Sturdy,  I  have 
kept  this  old  man's  secret  long  enough,  and,  though  I  hate 
you,  and  that  boy  there,  I  believe  I  hate  him  worse.  If 
I  will  reveal  to  this  boy  a  secret  which  will  insure  to  him 
a  property  of  from  twenty  to  thirty  thousand  dollars,  will 
you  agree  to  let  me  go,  and  give  me  a  thousand  dollars?" 

''Can  you  do  it?"  demanded  Sturdy,  in  surprise. 

"I  can." 

"Well,  it  ain't  for  me  to  say,  but  if  I  were  Charlie  here 
I  would  close  with  your  terms." 

"Don't  you  believe  him,"  said  Peter,  terrified.  "He  is 
only  making  a  fool  of  you.    He  can't  do  what  he  says." 

Charlie  was  not  a  little  astonished  at  the  turn  affai-s 
had  taken. 

"I   shouldn't  wonder,"   said   Bill,   "if  there   might  be 


232  Charlie  Comes  Into  His  Fortune. 

something  in  this,  as  long  as  the  old  man  seems  so  afraid 
the  secret  will  be  let  out." 

''You  will  find  that  I  have  told  you  the  truth/'  said 
Eandall ;  "tell  me  quickly,  yes  or  no.  If  you  decline,  you 
will  lose  more  than  I  shall." 

"Then,"  said  Charlie,  "I  will  accept  your  terms  so  far 
as  I  am  concerned." 

"And  I'll  bear  witness  to  it,"  said  Bill,  "if  you  will 
carry  out  your  part  of  the  agreement." 

"That  I  will  do  to  your  satisfaction.  The  first  thing  to 
be  explained  is,  that  in  carrying  this  boy  to  sea  I  was 
only  acting  as  the  agent  of  another." 

"And  that  other?" 

"Was  Peter  Manson — the  man  you  see  before  you." 

"It  is  false,"  said  the  miser,  turning  ghastly  pale. 

"Moreover,"  said  Eandall,  "I  was  well  paid  for  the 
service.     I  received  a  thousand  dollars." 

"Oh,  oh !"  cried  the  old  man,  swaying  backward  and 
forward — "a  thousand  dollars,  and  I  so  poor." 

"You  see  he  admits  it,"  said  Eandall. 

"And  what  did  he  want  Charlie  carried  away  for?" 

"Eeason  enough  for  that.  He  feared  the  boy  might 
learn  that  it  was  his  wealth  which  he  has  been  hoarding 
up." 

"Mine!"  exclaimed  Charlie,  in  unbounded  surprise. 

"Did  you  never  hear  your  mother  speak  of  a  certain 
Peter  Thornton,  who  by  purloining  and  making  off  with 
twenty  thousand  dollars  caused  your  grandfather  to  fail  ?" 


Charlie  Comes  Into  His  Fortune  233 

"Yes,  often." 

"That  wan  is  Peter  Thornton!"  said  Eandall,  pointing 
with  his  finger  to  the  miser. 

The  latter  half-rose  from  his  seat,  and  then,  as  if  he 
had  received  a  mortal  wound,  sank  to  the  floor. 

"You  require  no  other  confirmation  of  my  words,"  said 
the  mate. 

"Why,  my  lad,  you  will  he  a  rich  man,"  said  Bill  Sturdy, 
his  face  beaming  with  satisfaction. 

"How  glad  mother  will  be !"  exclaimed  Charlie.  "Where 
is  she,  Mr.  Eandall  ?     I  want  so  much  to  tee  her."' 

Tiie  mate  gave  Charlie  briefly  the  information  he  re- 
quired, and  added: 

"You  will  probably  need  my  assistance  to  establish  your 
claim  to  the  property  of  which  yonder  old  man  has  so 
long  deprived  you.  I  shall  hold  myself  at  your  service, 
trusting  to  your  honor  to  pay  me  the  thousand  dollars 
agreed  upon." 

"You  shall  not  trust  in  vain,  Mr.  Eandall,"  said  Charlie 
promptly.  "Place  me  in  possession  of  what  is  rightfully 
mine,  and  you  shall  have  no  reason  to  complain." 

"Very  well,  I  shall  stop  at  the  Tremont  House  for  the 
present.  There  you  or  your  lawyer  will  find  me.  I  ad- 
vise you  to  employ  legal  assistance." 

"I  will  do  so,  and  thank  you  for  the  suggestion.  As 
soon  as  I  have  seen  my  mother  I  shall  proceed  to  busi- 


234  Charlie  Comes  Into  His  Fortune. 

Eandall  withdrew,  but  was  quickly  followed  by  Cha.me 
and  his  friend. 

''Where  are  you  going,  my  lad  ?"  asked  the  sailor. 

"You  needn't  ask,  Bill — to  see  my  best  friend,  my 
mother.  It  is  for  her  sake  that  I  welcome  this  fortune. 
She  shall  never  want  any  more  while  I  have  money.  We 
will  have  a  nice  little  home,  where  you  shall  be  welcome, 
Bill,  always." 

Bill  pressed  the  hand  of  the  boy  in  his  own  rough  palm, 
and  there  was  a  suspicious  moisture  about  his  eyes,  but 
he  said  nothing. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

REUNITED    AT    LAST. 

Mrs.  Codman  was  sitting  in  a  little  room  opening  out 
from  the  breakfast-room,  which  had  been  appropriated 
as  a  sort  of  study  by  Bert  and  herself. 

Topsy,  the  kitten,  who  had  not  yet  attained  the  sobriety 
and  demureness  of  old  cathood,  was  running  round  after 
her  tail. 

"Oh,  dear,"  sighed  Bert,  who  was  puzzling  over  a  les- 
son in  geography,  "I  can't  study  any  to-day." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Mrs.  Codman. 

"Oh,  I  feel  so  restless." 

"That  isn't  very  unusual,  is  it?"  asked  her  governess, 
with  a  smile. 

"I  feel  more  so  than  usual.  Something  is  going  to  hap- 
pen, I  know." 

"Something  does  happen  every  day." 

"Well,  you  know  what  I  mean;  something  out  of  the 
way.    I  shouldn't  wonder  if  Charlie  got  home  today." 

"Heaven  grant  he  may !"  exclaimed  his  mother,  fer- 
vently. 

By  a  strange  coincidence — and  coincidences  do  some- 
times happen  in  real  life,  though  not  quite  so  often,  per- 
235 


236  Reunited  at  Last. 

haps,  as  in  stories — Mrs.  Codman  had  hardly  given  utter- 
ance to  her  wish  when  the  bell  rang. 

Bert  jumped  from  her  seat. 

"It  is  he,  I  know  it  is !"  she  exclaimed.  "Do  let  me  go 
to  the  door." 

"You  are  very  fanciful  to-day,  Bert,"  said  Mrs.  Codman. 
But  she  did  not  forbid  her  going.  Bert's  earnestness  had 
given  birth  to  a  wild  hope  on  her  part,  that  it  might  be 
as  she  had  fancied. 

Before  the  servant  had  a  chance  to  reach  the  door,  Bert 
had  opened  it. 

Bill  Sturdy  and  Charlie  stood  on  the  steps,  Charlie 
looking  handsome  and  manly,  with  an  eager  look  on  his 
bright  face.  Sturdy,  it  must  be  owned,  looked  and  felt  a 
little  awkward,  not  being  accustomed  to  call  as  a  visitor  at 
houses  as  elegant  as  Mr.  Bowman's. 

"Oh !  this  is  Charlie,  isn't  it  ?"  exclaimed  Bert,  with 
childish  delight,  instinctively  putting  out  her  hand. 

"What,  do  you  know  me?"  asked  Charlie,  pleased  with 
this  cordial  reception,  but  astonished  at  being  recognized. 

"Oh,  yes." 

"Is  my  mother  here?" 

"Yes;  I  will  go  and  call  her.  But  won't  you  come 
in?" 

"I  would  rather  you  would  call  her,"  said  Charlie  bash- 
fully. 

Bert  danced  back  into  the  little  study. 


Reunited  at  Last.  237 

"I  was  right,  Mrs.  Codman,"  said  she  triumphantly. 
"It  is  Charlie." 

"Has  he  come?"  asked  the  mother,  letting  fall,  as  she 
rose,  the  astonished  kitten,  which  had  clambered  into  her 
lap.    "Oh,  where  is  he?" 

"At  the  door." 

Mrs.  Codman  waited  for  no  more,  but  hastened  to  the 
door,  and,  in  a  moment,  the  mother  was  face  to  face  with 
her  lost  boy.  Of  the  delight  of  that  meeting;  of  the  num- 
berless questions  which  each  had  to  ask,  with  what  fond 
pride  the  mother  noted  the  increased  manliness  of  Charlie, 
I  cannot  speak  in  detail.  Both  hearts  were  full  to  over- 
flowing with  love  and  gratitude. 

Meanwhile  Bert  was  endeavoring,  in  her  way,  to  en- 
tertain Bill  Sturdy,  who,  though  no  man  was  braver  or 
more  self-reliant  among  his  comrades,  felt  abashed  in  the 
presence  of  the  child,  whom  he  looked  upon  as  made  of 
finer  clay  than  himself.  And,  indeed,  the  beauty  and 
sprightliness  of  the  girl  made  her  look  like  a  charming 
picture,  and  even  Charlie's  eyes  could  not  help  straying 
to  her,  from  time  to  time,  while  he  was  talking  with  his 
mother. 

Bill  was  perched  upon  an  elegant  chair,  scarcely  daring 
to  rest  his  whole  weight  upon  it,  for  fear  it  might  give 
way  under  him,  swinging  his  hat  awkwardly  in  his  hand. 

"You  are  Bill  Sturdy,  are  you  not?"  said  Bert,  deter- 
mined to  become  better  acquainted. 

"How  do  you  know  that  is  my  name?"  asked  Bill,  half- 


238  Reunited  at  Last. 

fancying  she  must  have  learned  it  in  some  supernatural 
way. 

"Oh,  Charlie  wrote  about  you  in  his  letter." 

"Did  his  mother  get  a  letter  from  him,  then?" 

"Yes;  it  was  from  some  place  with  a  hard  name.  I 
never  can  remember  those  geography  names/" 

"Was  it  VJo  Janeiro  ?" 

"Yes:  that  was  it.  What  an  awful  time  he  must  have 
had !     Do  you  like  going  to  sea  ?" 

"Yes,  miss;  I  feel  more  at  home  on  the  sea  than  on 
the  land." 

"You  do !  Well,  that's  funny.  I  know  I  should  be  sea- 
sick, and  that  must  be  horrid." 

"Well,  it  doesn't  feel  very  pleasant,"  said  Bill,  with  a 
smile. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Sturd}r,  did  you  ever  see  a  whale?" 

"Yes,  miss,  plenty  of  them." 

"I  suppose  you  never  came  near  being  swallowed  by 
one — like  Jonah,  you  know?" 

"No,  miss;  I  don't  think  I  should  like  that." 

'What  lots  of  adventures  you  must  have  had!  You 
must  stay  to  dinner,  and  afterward  you  can  tell  me  of 
some." 

"I  don't  think  I  could,  thank  you,  miss,  all  the  same/' 
said  Bill,  alarmed  at  the  suggestion.  "Not  but  I'd  be 
glad  to  spin  you  a  yarn  some  time." 

Just  then  Charlie  bethought  himself  of  his  companion. 

"Mother,"  said  he,  "you  must  let  me  introduce  to  you 


Reunited  at  Last.  239 

my  good  friend,  Bill  Sturdy.  You  don't  know  how  kind 
he  has  been  to  me." 

"I  am  quite  ready  to  believe  it,"  said  Mrs.  Codman, 
holding  out  her  hand  kindly. 

Bill  took  it  shyly  in  his. 

"I  thank  you  most  heartily  for  all  you  have  done  for 
my  dear  boy,"  said  she. 

"Anybody  that  wasn't  a  brute  would  have  done  as  much, 
ma'am." 

"Then  I  am  afraid  there  are  a  great  many  brutes  in  the 
wcrld." 

Charlie  stopped  to  dinner,  but  Bill  could  not  be  pre- 
vailed upon  to  do  so.  "You  see,  my  boy,"  he  explained  to 
Charlie,  "it  don't  come  nat'ral;  I  shouldn't  know  how  to 
behave.  So  I'll  just  go  back  to  my  boarding-house,  and 
you'll  find  me  there  after  dinner." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

BEACHING    PORT. 

Will  the  reader  imagine  a  year  to  have  passed? 

During  this  time  several  things  have  happened. 

In  the  first  place,  Mr.  Bowman  has  invited  Charlie  to 
become  a  member  of  his  family. 

In  the  second  place,  charmed  by  the  beauty  and  grace, 
as  well  as  the  more  valuable  qualities  of  Mrs.  Codman, 
with  whom  he  has  had  a  good  chance  of  becoming  ac- 
quainted during  her  residence  in  his  family,  he  has  in- 
vited her  to  become  his  wife.  Mrs.  Codman  was  taken 
by  surprise,  but  found  this  proposition  not  altogether  un- 
welcome. She  had  become  attached  to  Bert,  who  added 
her  persuasions  to  those  of  her  father,  and  at  length  her 
governess  promised  to  assume  to  her  a  nearer  relation. 

Through  the  testimony  of  Randall,  the  identity  of  Peter 
Manson  with  Peter  Thornton  was  fully  established,  and 
the  law  decided  that  the  miser's  wealth  must  go  to 
Charlie  and  his  mother.  It  was  found  to  exceed  the  es- 
timate which  had  been  made  of  it,  verging  close  upon 
forty  thousand  dollars.  Including  interest  for  twenty 
years,  all  this,  and  more,  belonged  to  those  who  had  so 
long  been  defrauded  of  it. 

240 


Reaching  Port.  241 

Mrs.  Codman  could  not  help  pitying  the  miserable  and 
disconsolate  old  man,  pinched  with  privation,  which  had 
enfeebled  him,  and  made  him  old  before  his  time.  She 
continued  to  allow  him  the  use  of  the  old  building  which 
he  had  occupied  so  many  years,  and  allowed  him  a  certain 
sum  payable  on  the  first  of  every  month  to  provide  for  his 
wants. 

The  sudden  loss  of  the  money  which  he  had  been  hoard- 
ing up  so  long  did  not  kill  Peter  Manson,  but  it  affected 
his  intellect.  The  habit  of  avarice  never  left  him.  He 
saved  up  nine- tenths  of  his  allowance,  and  starved  himself 
on  the  remainder.  Attempts  were  made  to  remedy  this 
by  bringing  him  supplies  of  fuel  and  provisions,  but  these 
he  economized  as  before.  One  day,  when  Charlie  looked 
in  to  see  how  he  was  getting  along,  he  beheld  a  sight 
which  made  him  start  back  in  affright. 

The  old  man  lay  stretched  out  upon  the  floor  with  a 
few  coins  firmly  clutched  in  his  grasp.  He  had  received 
a  sudden  summons  while  engaged  in  counting  over  the 
little  money  he  had  accumulated  from  his  allowance. 

So  ended  the  wasted  life  of  Peter  Manson,  the  miser. 

From  him  we  turn  to  others  who  have  figured  in  these 
pages. 

Pandall  received  the  thousand  dollars  which  had  been 
promised  as  the  reward  of  his  disclosure.  It  appeared  as 
if  prosperity,  rather  than  retribution,  was  to  attend  him. 
He  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  command  of  a  fine  ship, 
with  an  excellent  salary,  and  sailed  with  fair  prospects. 


242  Reaching  Port. 

But  his  tyrannical  habits  had  not  deserted  him.  His  un- 
justifiable abuse  aroused  the  deadly  anger  of  one  of  the 
erewf  a  man  of  excitable  temper,  who,  before  he  could 
be  withheld,  plunged  a  knife  into  his  heart  one  day,  just 
after  punishment,  killing  him  instantly. 

As  for  Captain  Brace,  he,  too,  demands  a  word.  Brief 
mention  will  suffice.  In  a  fit  of  ungovernable  rage  he 
burst  a  blood-vessel  and  he,  too,  died  instantly,  without  a 
moment's  preparation,  in  which  to  repent  of  the  many 
wrongs  he  had  committed. 

From  the  sad  fate  of  these  miserable  men  we  turn  gladly 
to  brighter  scenes. 

Mrs.  Codman,  now  Mrs.  Bowman,  has  had  no  cause  to 
regret  her  second  choice.  Her  husband  commands  her 
respect  and  esteem,  and  makes  her  very  happy.  Charlie 
is  now  at  an  excellent  school.  After  he  has  completed  a 
liberal  course  of  instruction,  he  will  enter  the  office  of 
!his  stepfather,  where,  as  we  cannot  doubt,  an  honorable 
and  useful  career  awaits  him. 

As  for  Bill  Sturdy — honest,  brave,  stout-hearted  Bill 
Sturdy — he  could  not  be  persuaded  to  abandon  the  sea, 
but  now  sails  as  captain  of  a  vessel  belonging  to  Mr.  Bow- 
man. He  is  unboundedly  popular  with  his  crew,  whom 
he  treats  as  comrades  in  whose  welfare  he  is  interested. 
Whenever  he  is  in  port,  Captain  Sturdy  dines  once  with 
'Mr.  Bowman.  He  feels  more  at  his  ease  now  than  when 
he  was  only  a  forecastle  hand,  but  he  will  always  be  mod- 
est and  unassuming.     He  is  a  prime  favorite  with  Bert, 


Reaching  Port.  343 

and  always  brings  her  home  something  when  he  returns 
from  foreign  parts. 

It  is  not  ours  to  read  the  future;  but  I  should  not  be 
surprised,  when  Charlie  grows  to  manhood,  if  we  should 
find  Bert's  early  choice  of  him  as  her  husband  prophetic. 

So  we  bid  farewell  to  Charlie  Codman.  His  trials  and 
struggles  have  come  early  in  life,  but  now  his  bark  has 
drifted  into  smoother  waters.  The  sky  above  him  ia 
cloudless.  His  character  has  been  strengthened  by  his 
combat  with  adversity.  Let  us  hope  that  his  manhood 
may  redeem  the  promise  of  his  youth,  and  be  graced  by  aH 
the  noblest  attributes  of  humanity. 

SHP    END. 


WHAT    HE    LEFT. 


BY  FRANCES  HENSHAW  BADEN. 

"  I  know  not  of  the  truth,  d'ye  see, 
I  tell  the  tale  as  'twas  told  "to  me." 

MARK  BROWNSON  was  dying,  slowly,  but  surely,  s® 
the  physician  told  his  wife,  and  advised  that  if  he 
had  any  business  to  settle,  it  should  not  be  delayed. 

"  He  is  sinking,  and  even  now  I  see  his  mind  is,  at 
times,  a  little  clouded.  However,  I  suppose  there  is  noth- 
ing of  importance  that  he  should  consider,"  said  the 
doctor. 

"  He  has  made  no  will,"  said  Mrs.  Brownson. 

"  Is  that  necessary  ?     I  did  not  know — " 

"  I  think  it  is  very  necessary,  doctor,  for  his  children's 
welfare.  Not  that  I  think  it  at  all  likely  there  can  be  any 
contest  about  what  Mr.  Brownson  has.  Yet  to  provide 
against  any  future  troubles,  it  would  be  prudent,  I  think." 

The  good  doctor  assented,  but  looked  much  surprised. 

And  well  he  might.  No  one  imagined  old  Mark  Brown- 
eon  had  anything  to  will.  But  he  was  a  very  eccentric 
man ;  and  the  economical  style  of  his  establishment  was 
likely  one  of  his  notions. 

"Are  you  suffering  much  pain  now,  Mark  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Brownson,  a  few  moments  after,  when  she  was  seated  at 
her  brand's  bedside.  <223> 


224  WHAT     HE     LEFT. 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  give  me  my  composing  draught — the  opium 
—anything  to  relieve  me,"  answered  the  suffering  man. 

His  wife  obeyed,  and  after  his  groaning  and  restlessness 
had  ceased,  she  said : 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you,  Mark.     Can  you  listen  now  ?  " 

A  nodded  assent  gave  her  permission  to  proceed. 

"  Do  you  not  think  it  would  be  as  well  for  you  to  express 
your  wishes  with  regard  to  the  disposition  of  your  stocks 
and  other  effects  ?  You  may  outlive  me,  Mark,  and  this 
thing  not  be  necessary,  still  I  think  it  better  to  attend 
to  such  business,"  said  Mrs.  Brownson,  closely  watching 
the  effect  her  words  might  have  on  the  sufferer. 

She  had  feared  possibly  they  might  shock  him  severely, 
but  depending  much  on  the  favorable  influence  of  the 
opiate,  she  had  ventured  on  the  business  she  considered  so 
important. 

A  look  of  satisfaction  replaced  the  anxiety  of  a  moment 
before.  She  had  no  longer  cause  for  fear.  Calmly  Mark 
Brownson  heard  her  suggestion,  and  said,  in  a  feeble 
voice: 

"  What  have  I  to  will  ?  " 

"  Why,  dear,  you  forget.  Your  long  sickness  and  the 
opium — no  wonder  !  There  is  the  stock  in  the  '  Liverpool 
Steamship  Company,'  and  that  in  the  'Australian  Mining 
C  iQjpany.'  Surely  you  have  not  forgotten  your  large 
amount  in  our  State  bonds?  And  how  much  you  have 
in  '  Fire  and  Life  Insurance  stock  '  I  cannot  just  remember 
now.     However,  by  reference  to  the  papers  I  can  tell." 

Again  she  watched  her  husband's  face.  It  only  ex- 
pressed a  rather  puzzled  brain,  as  though  he  was  trying  to 
remember. 

"  You  have  such  papers?     I  cannot  think,"  he  said. 

"  Don't  try  to,  dear.  It  is  not  necessary.  I  will  just 
look  over  your  papers,  and  make  a  statement;  and  wheD 


tf-FIAT     HE     LEFT.  225 

I  read  them  over  to  you  in  presence  of  the  lawyer,  you  can 
assent.  You  wish  an  equal  division  between  myself  and 
our  daughters,  I  know.     Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes.  You  are  always  right,"  murmured  her  hus- 
band. 

"  There,  dear,  go  to  sleep  now.  Some  time  when  you 
are  easy  we  will  fix  this,;'  said  Mrs.  Brownson. 

And  the  next  day,  at  an  hour  when  she  knew  her  hus- 
band's mind  was  best  prepared,  a  lawyer  was  summoned, 
and  a  statement  of  stocks  and  bonds  to  the  amount  of  two 
hundred  thousand  dollars  placed  before  him,  and  Mark 
Brownson  expressed  his  wish  to  have  an  equal  division 
of  his  effects  made  between  his  wife  and  two  children. 

The  will  was  made,  and  duly  signed  and  witnessed  by 
two  of  the  nearest  neighbors  and  the  only  domestic,  a 
worthy  woman  who  had  been  with  Mrs.  Brownson  for 
many  years. 

A  few  days  more,  and  Mark  Brownson  had  passed  from 
earth. 

Many  wondered  at  the  very  quiet  and  unostentatious 
style  of  the  last  services  for  him ;  but  the  widow  had  said : 

"  In  death  it  shall  be  with  him  as  he  always  preferred 
in  life." 

And  then  when  all  was  over,  and  the  summer  months 
were  coming,  Mrs.  Brownson  sold  out  the  modest  little  es- 
tablishment, and,  with  her  daughters  and  their  faithful 
servant,  went  to  board  by  the  seashore,  at  a  very  fashion- 
able resort;  but,  of  course,  not  to  mingle  in  the  gay 
festivities  of  the  season,  only  to  recruit  her  health,  which 
was  very  much  impared  by  long  attention  to  her  suffering 
husband,  and  to  have  the  girls  escape  the  heat  and  dust 
of  the  city. 

A.  few  days  after  they  were  settled  in  their  new  abode, 
Mrs.  Brownson  said  to  her  attendant: 


226  WHAT     HE     LEFT. 

"  Margaret,  you  were  very  much  surprised  by  hearing 
Mr.  Brownson's  will." 

"Oh,  yes,  ma'am,  indeed  I  was." 

"Well,  Margaret,  I  do  not  wish  you  to  mention  any- 
thing about  it  down  here.  Mr.  Brownson,  you  know, 
never  let  it  be  known  to  the  world.  And  so  it  must  be 
for  the  present.  I  do  not  wish  my  daughters  to  be  mar- 
ried for  anything  but  their  own  good  qualities.  They  are 
good  and  beautiful  enough  to  marry  well,  without  having 
any  other  inducements  for  suitors.  Now,  Margaret,  you 
know  just  how  I  feel,  and  what  I  mean  ?  "  said  the  anxious 
mother. 

"  Certainly  I  do !  And  I  feel  as  much  concerned  about 
my  beautiful  young  ladies  as  you  do,  ma'am.  Never  fear 
but  I  will  look  out  for  their  interest,"  answered  the  worthy 
woman. 

And  to  do  as  she  said,  to  the  best  of  her  understanding, 
Margaret  set  out  for  a  walk  on  the  beach,  with  some  of 
the  other  servants  and  their  escorts,  the  waiters  from  the 
hotel.  And  before  the  next  noon  it  was  well  known  what 
a  good  chance  there  was  for  two  young  men  to  win  as 
beautiful  wives  as  ever  were  seen,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
other  greater  attractions. 

And  very  soon  the  sisters,  Maud  and  May,  were  objecta 
of  universal  observation.  Yet  it  was  very  difficult  to  get 
an  introduction,  the  young  gentlemen  all  found ;  for  the 
widow  kept  the  beautiful  girls  very  much  secluded. 

Numberless  were  the  delicate  attentions  paid  them,  in 
the  way  of  bouquets,  books,  and  so  on,  sent  by  Margaret; 
and  several  cards  to  Mrs.  Brownson,  with  the  request  for 
an  introduction,  accompanied  by  references — among  which 
came  those  of  Vernon  Wadsworth  and  Harry  Bennett. 

The  first  one  Mrs.  Brownson  knew  well  by  repute,!.; ... 
He  was  a  young  physician  of  very  fine  promise,  and. 


WHAT     HE     LEFT.  227 

Of  one  of  the  best  families  in  the  State,  she  considered  him 
worthy  of  her  attention.  The  other,  she  had  heard  since 
her  arrival  there,  was  the  possessor  of  a  very  fair  amount 
of  worldly  goods,  the  life-long  accumulation  of  an  old 
uncle.  So,  from  the  many  aspirants,  Mrs.  Brownson 
d  these  two  to  present  to  her  daughters. 

Just  at  this  time,  Doctor  Alton,  Mrs.  Brownson's  friend 
and  the  physician  who  had  attended  her  husband,  arrived 
at  the  sea-shore ;  and  through  him,  without  any  more 
trouble  or  waiting  the  mother's  pleasure,  young  Doctor 
Wadsworth  obtained  an  introduction,  and  presented  his 
friend,  Bennett. 

And  although  both  of  these  young  men  did  their  best  to 
keep  back  all  others  by  various  manoeuvres,  many  mora 
became  acquainted  with  the  lovely  sisters,  who  soon, 
much  to  their  own  surprise,  became  decidedly  the  belles 
of  that  resort. 

Carefully  Mrs.  Brownson  had  guarded  her  secret  from 
her  girls,  fearing,  perhaps,  it  would  have  a  prejudicial 
effect,  changing  their  sweet,  unassuming  manner,  which 
was  one  of  their  greatest  charms ;  or,  perhaps,  for  other 
motives  best  known  to  herself. 

Although  Doctor  Wadsworth  and  young  Bennett  very 
much  feared  the  approach  of  other  suitors,  it  was  quite 
needless,  for  the  girls  were  best  pleased  with  the  first  who 
had  sought  them  and  drawn  them  forth  from  their  seclu- 
sion. 

The  older  one,  Maud,  a  brilliant  brunette,  received  with 
Undisguised  pleasure  the  devoted  attention  of  Harry  Ben- 
nett; while  gentle  little  May,  so  fair  and  timid,  always 
greeted  the  handsome  doctor  by  ising  her 

beautiful  face;  and  then,  from  lance  from 

the  e;  I 

the  glad  :i  dit  that  told  how  welcome  his  coj 


228  WHAT      HE     LEFT. 

"  We  must  win  them  now,  doctor ;  you  see  how  much 
they  are  admired  and  sought  here.  What  will  it  be  whea 
they  are  out  of  their  mourning  robes  and  in  the  gayeties 
of  the  city?  This  is  our  best  chance.  What  say  you ?  * 
asked  young  Bennett,  a  fortnight  after  their  introduction. 

"  Say  !  That  the  very  idea  of  even  losing  sight  of  that 
gentle,  beautiful  May  for  a  day,  fills  my  heart  with  mis- 
giving and  great  anxiety.  I  tell  you,  I  began  this  affair 
rather  in  fun — " 

"Yon  mean  after  funds,  perhaps!"  interrupted  Bennett. 

A  Hush  suffused  Doctor  Wadsworth's  face  for  an  instant, 
and  he  answered : 

"  Well,  I'll  admit  that  is  not  at  all  objectionable ;  but 
really,  now  that  I  know  May  Brownson,  I  would  not  be 
willing  to  resign  her  to  another  man,  even  if  she  had  not 
a  dollar  in  the  world." 

There  was  an  expression  about  Harry  Bennett's  mouth 
that  looked  as  if  his  lips  wanted  to  say  :  "  I  don't  believe 
you" — only  they  did  not  just  dare  to.  Harry  Bennett 
was  as  much  in  love  as  he  could  be  with  any  one  other 
than  himself,  still  he  was  not  going  to  leap  without  look- 
ing. So,  after  learning  a  little  more  than  he  had  already 
heard  from  Margaret,  he  was  called,  very  urgently,  to  the 
city.  After  an  absence  of  only  two  days  he  was  back 
again,  and  stated  to  Doctor  Wadsworth  his  knowledge  of 
Mark  Brownson's  possessions.  That  evening  Mrs.  Brown- 
son  received  proposals  for  both  of  her  daughters. 

She  must  consider  the  matter,  and  consult  with  her 
friends,  the  prudent  mother  thought  and  said  to  the 
anxious  suitors. 

This  made  them  each  more  determined  to  secure  the 
prize. 

"  Dear  May,  plead  with  your  mother  for  me ! "  said  the 
ardent  young  doctor. 


WHAT     HE     LEFT.  229 

"Mamma  will  consent  after  a  while,"  answered  the 
gentle  girl. 

"After  a  while!  Why  not  now?  I  am  going  away 
next  month  for  a  long  time.  I  cannot  leave  you,  May. 
Would  you  wish  me  to  ?  " 

May  turned  pale  at  the  thought,  and  raised  her  pleading 
eyes  to  her  mother. 

It  was  enough.  Doctor  Wadsworth  had  used  the  surest 
weapon.  A  separation  was  dreaded  by  both  mother  and 
daughter,  and  each  for  different  reasons.  And  then  it 
was  an  easier  thing  for  Harry  Bennett  to  obtain  the 
mother's  consent,  to  claim  his  love  at  the  same  time. 

Mrs.  Brownson,  after  giving  her  consent,  requested  a 
private  interview  with  her  prospective  sons-in-law.  The 
girls  were  sent  from  the  room,  and  then  Mrs.  Brovvnson 
eaid: 

"  I  have  thought  possibly,  gentlemen,  that  a  very  foolish 
rumor  may  have  reached  your  ears  respecting  the  wealth 
possessed  by  my  daughters,  and  that — excuse  me,  but  I 
must  allude  to  it — this  may  in  a  measure  have  influenced 
your  selecting  them  from  the  many  young  girls  here — " 

"  Oh,  madam  !  "  both  men  exclaimed  simultaneously. 

"  If  I  tell  you  they  have  nothing  but  their  pure  hearts 
and  loving  natures,  will  you  not  be  disappointed  ?  " 

"  No,  madam.  How  can  you  judge  me  so?  "  exclaimed 
both. 

"  I  am  glad  it  is  so.  I  would  not  have  you  marry  my 
daughters  under  false  impressions." 

"  When  May  is  mine,  I  shall  think  I  have  secured  the 
most  valuable  fortune  any  man  can  have,"  said  the  doctor, 
with  a  really  honest  look  in  his  eyes. 

"  When  Maud  is  mine,  I  shall  know  I  have  secured  o  ' 
I  would  wish,"  added  Harry  Bennett,  with  rat 
twinkle  in  his  eyes. 


230  WHAT     HE     LEFT. 

And  so  it  was  agreed  that  they  should  be  united  there^ 
«nd  after  a  very  private  wedding  leave  for  an  extensive 
bridal  tour. 

"  The  old  fox !  Is  she  not  a  sly  oik  ?  She  thought  to 
throw  us  off,  I  do  beHeve.  But  /  aoi  as  bright  as  she," 
said  Harry  Bennett,  after  the  interview. 

"  Really,  Bennett,  that  is  not  a  very  respectful  way  of 
speaking  of  the  mother  of  your  promised  wife,"  replied 
Doctor  Wadsworth. 

'•  Well,  no ;  you  are  right.  But  just  to  think  of  her 
talking  so  to  us !  "  answered  Harry,  with  an  air  of  injured 
pride. 

The  ceremony  was  over.  After  an  acquaintance  of  less 
than  six  weeks,  Doctor  Wadsworth  and  Harry  Bennett 
had  won  their  wives. 

And  while  the  brides  had  retired  to  change  their  dress 
for  the  travelling-suit,  the  happy  young  husbands  requested 
to  speak  a  moment  with  their  mother-in-law. 

"  Indeed  you  must  speak;  I  will  not,"  said  Doctor  Wads- 
worth, in  a  low  tone,  as  he  closed  the  door,  and  with  Ben- 
nett approached  Mrs.  Brownson. 

After  a  moment's  hesitation,  Harry  Bennett  said : 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Brownson,  that  we  have  proved  our  sin- 
cerity and  real  love  for  your  daughters,  there  is  no  reason 
for  any  longer  concealment. '; 

"About  what,  sir?"  asked  his  mother-in-law. 

'-  Come,  my  dear  madam ;  this  is  entirely  useless.  Yon 
have  tried  and  proved  us.     Now  to  business." 

"  Really,  Mr.  Bennett,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  you  1 
Will  you  please  to  be  explicit  ?  " 

"  Well,  madam,  then  I  must  tell  you  that  I  am  perfectly 
well  aware  that  my  wife  is  entitled  to  the  one-third  of  two 
hundred  thousand  dollars  left  by  her  father.  Now,  my 
dear  madam,  we  are  going  on  a  very  long  and  expensive 


WHAT     HE     LEFT.  231 

trip,  and  may  need  more  than  I  have  in  ready  money. 
Now,  that  is  just  the  whole  truth,"  said  Harry,  who  had 
gotten  over  his  slight  embarrassment,  and  then  spoke  in  a 
very  business  sort  of  maimer. 

Not  so  Doctor  Wads  worth  ;  he  seemed  very  much  mor- 
tified, and  looked  as  if  he  wished  he  was  away  from  that 
scene. 

"  Mr.  Bennett,  I  spoke  to  you  about  this  report,  and  told 
you  how  false  it  was,  did  I  not  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  madam  ;  but  you  see — " 

"  You  still  believe  this,  even  when  I  again  tell  you  that 
neither  I  nor  my  daughters  have  a  dollar  in  the  worlcj 
beyond  the  small  amount  I  have  now  from  the  iak  oi  ray- 
household  effects?  I  assure  you,  sir,  I  speak  the  truth," 
said  Mrs.  Brownson,  in  a  tone  and  manner  that  would  I 
have  enforced  belief. 

But  Harry  Bennett  said,  triumphantly: 

"  Madam,  I  have  seen  Mr.  Brownson 's  will." 

"Thai  will,  my  dear  sir,  is  not  worth  the  paper  it  is  writ* 
ten  on.  Mr.  Brownson  was  out  of  his  head,  and  imagined 
he  was  possessed  of  that  sum  in  bonds  and  stock.  If 
you  can  find  any  such  possession,  no  one  would  wel- 
come it  more  gladly  than  I.  You  can  readily  prove  th« 
truth." 

Harry  Bennett  gazed  bewildered  from  his  mother-in-law 
to  Doctor  Wads  worth,  and  then  said  in  a  low  voice,  as  if 
to  himself: 

"  Caught  and  caged." 

"And  I  am  glad  of  it,"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  who  wa» 
truly  glad  of  anything  to  end  that  very  embarrassing  inter- 
view. "  Come,  Bennett,  we  must  arrange  our  trip  to  suit 
the  extent  of  our  purse,  and  be  happy  with  the  prizes  w& 

ave  won." 

"  Well,  madam,  I  must  say  that  the  old  gentleman's  will 


232  a  AT     HE     LEFT. 

was  worth   something      For  111  own  up  now,  it  nelped 
..^ery  much   to  st  ure  you  one  very  nice  young  man  for 
your  son.     I'll  speak  a  word  for  him,  although  he  has 
been  i  a  -eery  Brown  son.'     I'm  ready  now,  Wads- 

we  won't  shorten  our  trip  one  mile;  for  Fve  got 
a  fortune,  thanks  to  my  old  uncle.  Yes,  and  another,  111 
have  to  admit  (there  she  is  now),  thanks  to  her  father's 
will." 

Mrs.  Brownson  could  not  resist  a  smile.  She  had  no 
misgivings  about  her  children's  future  happiness.  If  they 
had  not  already  secured  their  husbands'  affection,  she 
knew  they  would  soon;  lor  who  could  help  loving  such 

iov 


Mger  Series  for  Boys 

The  public  and  popular  verdict 
for  many  years  has  approved  of 
the  Alger  series  of  books  as  among 
the  most  wholesome  of  all  stories 
for  boys.    To  meet  the  continued 
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Adrift  in  New  York 

Andy  Gordon 

Andy  Grant's  Pluck 

Bob  Burton 

Bo  and  to  Rise 

Brave  and  Bold 

Cash  Boy,  The 

Chester  Rand 

Cousin's  Conspiracy?  & 

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Driven  From  Home 

Erie  Train  Boy 

Fsciaa  the  World 

Five  Hundred  Dollar* 

Frank's  Campairm 

Grit;  The  Yo-ong  Bo&tniafc 

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Hee tor's  Iclisrjtaiice 

Helping  Hsnself 

In  a  New  Wocid 

Jack's  Ward 

Jed,  the  Poo*  House  Boy 

Joe's  Luck 

JuhVus,tlxe  Street  Boy 

Luke  Watton 


Mafcfci*  Hi3  Way 
Mark  Mason's  Victory 
Only  as  Irish  Boy 
Paul,  the  Peddler 
PhiU  the  Fiddler 
Ralph  Raymond's  Hair 
Risen  from  the  Ranks 
Sam's  CfaeaBce 
Shifting  for  IfirnseK 
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Slow  and  Sure 
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Strive  and  Succeed 
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Tin  Box,  The 
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W.  Sherwood* s  Probation 
Young  Acrobat 
Young  Adventurer,  The 
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DOWN     THE 
SLOPE 

By  JAMES  OTIS 

The  hero  of  this  story  is  a  young  boy 
who,  in  order  to  assist  his  mother,  works 
as  a  "breaker"  in  a  coal  mine.  Ihe  book 
tells  how  coal  miners  work;  their  socias 
condition]  their  hardships  and  pri- 
vations. 

TEDDY 

By  JAMES  OTIS 

A  captivating  story  of  how  Teddy,  a  village  boy,  helped  to  raise  the 
(Mortgage  on  his  mother's  home,'  and  the  means  he  took  for  doing  so.  The 
obstacles  his  craDbed  uncle  placed  in  his  way;  his  connection  with  the 
fakirs  a*  the  CouDiy  Fair;  his  successful  Cane  and  Knife  Board  venture) 
Biis  queer  lot  of  friends  and  how  they  aided  him;  and  how  he  finally  ouU 
Sitted  his  enemies. 


TELEGRAPH  TOM'S  VENTURE 

By  JAMES  OTIS 

A  highly  entertaining  story  of  the  adventures  of  a  boy  who  assisted  a 
tffnited  States  officer  of  the  law  in  working  up  a  famous  case.  The  nar. 
BStive  is  both  interesting  and  instructive  in  that  it  shows  what  a  bright 
&oy  can  accomplish  when'  thrown  upon  his  own  resources,  and  also  portrays 
(ike  manner  in  which  such  officers  do  their  work. 


MESSENGER  NO.  48 

By  JAMES  OTIS 

Relates  the  experience  of  a  faithful  messenger  boy  in  a  large  city,  who  in 
answering  a  call  was  the  means  of  ferreting  out  a  band  of  criminals  who 
for  years  had  baffled  the  police  and  detectives,  The  story  tells  of  the  many 
dangers  and  hardships  these  boys  have  to  undergo,  the  important  services 
£he>  often  render  by  their  clever  movements;  and  how  by  his  fidelity  to 
duty,  Messenger  Boy.  No.  48  rose  to  a  most  important  position  of  trust  and 
Jjonor.  It  teaches  boys  that  self  -reliance,  pluck  and  the  faithful  performance 
af  duties  are  the  real  secrets  of  success.     241  pages. 

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